


Storms on Pijal (Stars of the Darkest Night)

by Meysun



Series: Still Green [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Childhood Friends, Concussions, Crash Landing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fights, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Visions, Friendship, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, Injury, Jedi Council - Freeform, Jedi Shields, Kyber Crystals, Love, Misunderstandings, Negociations, Non-Consensual Touching, Obi-Wan Kenobi Gets a Hug, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Mess, Pijali Culture, Poor Obi-Wan Kenobi, Protective Qui-Gon Jinn, Qui-Gon is done with Nobility flirting with his Padawan :), Revenge, Still Green AU, Teen Angst, Teenagers, Young Love, Young Obi-Wan Kenobi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:54:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25345012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meysun/pseuds/Meysun
Summary: Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon just came back to the Jedi Temple after one year of protecting Duchess Satine of Mandalore, and Obi-Wan struggles with residual feelings. Shortly after, Master and Padawan are sent to Pijal, where things spiral out of control after a plane crash. Separated from Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan needs to pull through this mission alone, and to find himself in the Force once more.
Relationships: Kit Fisto & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Kit Fisto & Obi-Wan Kenobi & Quinlan Vos & Luminara Unduli, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Luminara Unduli, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Quinlan Vos, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze, Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi & Satine Kryze
Series: Still Green [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1767514
Comments: 106
Kudos: 136





	1. Coming Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear ones, I am back with a new fic in the Still Green Universe :-)!  
> First of all, I hope you are well and I thank you for still sticking with me and my stories.  
> This one is about seventeen year-old Obi-Wan, and I found it interesting to mix both post-Mandalore mission and Pijal feels. This is a rather short, introductive chapter, but things will get serious very soon (and we'll meet some well-known characters before we head to Pijal, I promise).  
> Thank you for reading and enjoy I hope! Much love, Meysun.

_I am flying away, my own true love /_ _I am flying away in the morning /_ _Is there something I can send you from across the sky /_ _From the place that I'll be landing?_

**Coruscant, 38 BBY.**

Obi-Wan could still hear her - her pointed, very articulated voice as she argued, the way she managed to convey her irritation at him as she _hissed_. The rare softness, as well, when he had been injured, or that one time he had fallen ill and was too weak and confused to keep on walking – and yet she had made him. She – and Qui-Gon of course.

“Obi-Wan?”

His Master’s voice rose behind him, and Obi-Wan turned from the windowsill, where he had been busy watering their plants. They had fared surprisingly well in the year-and-some-more of their absence from the Temple, yet to Obi-Wan they seemed puny compared to the wild spaces they had roamed.

With _her_.

“A little bit more and you will drown them, Padawan”, Qui-Gon said softly.

And yet there was caution in his last word – a lingering _something_ Obi-Wan wished he was not responsible for, and yet he was. He carefully tightened his shields, and then he turned to face his Master.

Because Qui-Gon deserved it. Because he was still Obi-Wan’s Master, and Obi-Wan his Padawan, despite… _her_. And the fact that she had nearly made him let go of all this – of the Temple, of the Jedi life, and of his Master.

And it hurt. _Everything_ hurt.

“Padawan”, Qui-Gon said once more, and this time there was no caution, just warmth, along with a gentle wave of concern radiating from their bond.

And Obi-Wan looked up, grey eyes awash in a too-thin, tired face. He met Qui-Gon’s blue, calm gaze, and then he breathed in, carefully, just like he would have done had he cracked his ribs.

It certainly felt like it.

“Obi-Wan… This mission has been a trial, I am well aware of that. And for what it is worth, I am really proud of you.

\- Thank you, Master”, Obi-Wan managed to croak.

“ _But_ , Padawan mine… I do not want you to feel obliged to hide your hurts. We live a hard life, little one…

\- It is nothing, Master”, Obi-Wan whispered. “I… really need to clean up – plants are not the only ones yearning for water.”

He smiled at Qui-Gon, a small smile that did not reach his eyes, and then he walked past him, towards his room where he pulled clean clothes out of his wardrobe, and into their shared fresher.

He let his clothes fall to the ground and breathed in deeply. These clothes were on him as they had said goodbye. They were the ones her fingers had touched, for the last time, when she had placed a hand on his forearm _without_ kissing him. Simply letting go of him.

_Let go of her as well. Just like you shed these clothes, may you release your longing into the Force._

Obi-Wan stepped into the shower, biting his lip, and let the water rain upon his head and body. It was loud enough to cover any sound – but he did not make any as he finally wept, quietly, for what was never meant to be.

***

Qui-Gon eyed his Padawan worriedly as he watched him disappear into the fresher. That fourteen-month mission had taken a toll on them both, and Obi-Wan had lost weight during that time – being on the run with rationed food and falling ill on top of it clearly had not helped. And he had been pale and silent, almost listless, ever since they had _finally_ left Mandalore.

_I am going to make sure to feed you and make you rest, little one. Force knows you need it._

The thing was, his Padawan was no little one anymore, not really. At almost seventeen years old, Obi-Wan still had somewhat childish features, but his body was toned and lean, and his Padawan had a strength and maturity rarely found in Jedi his age. It showed in his eyes, and in the way he held himself. Freckles were still dusting his face, but his features had sharpened as his Padawan braid grew, and right now his hair was much longer than it should, falling on his forehead in unruly waves. They remained Qui-Gon of the little robin he had once been, but they also helped to guess how he would look like as a Knight, when he would finally be able to shed the Padawan-cut.

The girl had made such fun of it – had not hidden her glee at seeing his hair grow. And yet she had been the one cutting it, carefully, every once in a while, on the rare occasions they had found the time.

Carefully, and _lovingly_.

Qui-Gon sighed. He was not blind, and he knew his little one. Knew that Obi-Wan’s heart could be won in a few seconds, but that when it came to _love_ , truly, his Padawan was more of a Jedi than himself.

It had been even more preoccupying, and oddly _moving_ , to see him fall in love for the very first time in his young life – because it was so quiet, and so slow. And Qui-Gon still chided himself for not seeing that what he had viewed as a beginning crush, a way for his Padawan to get acquainted with some facts and feelings no Jedi could ever truly avoid, had actually been the growing roots of something very close to _attachment_.

Because his Padawan was way too subtle to fall in love with a mere _body_. No, what he had loved in the girl was her intelligence, her courage and fiery spirit, the way she stood her ground and never seemed to need him, the way she could soften – just as he could. The way she had shared her memories with them – acknowledging the hurt of losing parts of her family, yet showing them she was able to let go.

And his young Padawan – that Stewjoni boy who had also been forced to part from his brother at three years old, and whose honour dictated he would have to renounce so many things – his young Padawan had offered her his friendship first. His trust next. A door to his mind. And finally, though never voiced to Qui-Gon’s knowledge, always implicitly – his very heart.

No wonder the boy looked like it had been ripped out of his chest. And yet Qui-Gon was unspeakably grateful for the firm way the girl – Duchess Satine now – had managed to _not_ make the move prying Obi-Wan away from the Jedi.

He was not sure Obi-Wan would have had the same strength. And since it was the first time _ever_ Qui-Gon had witnessed his Padawan being _not_ strong enough to achieve something, his old heart swelled with unwanted compassion. Because there was so little comfort he could offer his boy right now – he could only watch out for him as he mended.

And make him tea.

Obi-Wan’s eyes looked brighter than usual once he stepped out of the fresher, hair still damp, dressed in clean clothes – but his Padawan smiled as he spotted the freshly brewed pot on the kitchen table. Qui-Gon, however, was unimpressed by this – he had lived five years with the boy now and knew his deflective ways.

So he let his Padawan sit down in front of him, and poured him a cup, as every considerate Master would. And then, once Obi-Wan’s hands were busy circling the cup to warm themselves up, Qui-Gon’s sneaked up to his nape, resting on his forehead.

“Master…”

Obi-Wan’s annoyed sigh made him smile, but Qui-Gon did not lose his focus, testing his brow carefully, because he _did_ look pale.

“You feel warm, Obi-Wan…

\- Perhaps because I just stepped out of the shower, Master?”

Grey eyes met his defiantly – but Obi-Wan did not raise his voice. It was not the boy’s way, and Qui-Gon secretly loved him for that, because it allowed him to _loom_ over him all the more, especially when his Padawan was too stubborn for his own good.

“And perhaps because you are still recovering from that nasty marsh fever. You heard the healers, on Mandalore. Relapses happen. Sometimes even months afterwards.

\- Master, they _treated_ me. I’m fine, I… I just want tea.”

_I just want tea._

The boy’s admission was quiet, and sad. It was so rare for Obi-Wan to voice his needs and wants that Qui-Gon instantly dropped his hand along with the matter, and simply sat down in front of him.

“Fine, Padawan mine.

\- Thank you, Master. I’m sorry to have snapped.”

Qui-Gon just raised an eyebrow – because _snapping_ was something else. But he did not reply, and simply sent a soothing nudge through their bond, watching Obi-Wan’s shoulders slump slightly as he finally relaxed.

“What are your plans, for the next days, Padawan?”, he asked, once they were sharing their second cup. “Besides getting your hair cut…”

Obi-Wan winced, grey eyes meeting his once more.

“I… I think I’ll try to catch up. On lessons, and on what happened this past year, in the Senate.”

 _Force, does_ that _sound appealing._

This time, the smile on Obi-Wan’s face was genuine.

“You know, Master, sometimes I just don’t understand you.

\- Oh little one, the feeling is mutual, believe me.

\- I mean… We _have_ to know what is going on, have we not? To keep informed, so that we know what we are talking about…

\- Certainly, little one. But, as experience will teach you one day – you can either avidly read every available source, or you can talk to a few well-informed people and get the main facts from them.

\- But that’s _biased_ , Master.

\- Perhaps it is, Obi-Wan, but it’s definitely more interesting and less time-consuming.”

His Padawan just shook his head, braid brushing his thin, pale cheek. And Qui-Gon was once more reminded of how _tired_ he looked.

“I think you should go to bed, Obi-Wan. With a holonovel, if you must. It is late, and that journey was exhausting.”

It told a lot of his Padawan’s state that he did not even argue. Qui-Gon quietly probed their bond, but Obi-Wan’s shields were drawn, and he could only sense deep-bone weariness.

“Master, you need to shower as well. And don’t… don’t bother about the report, I wrote a draft on the journey back, I’ll fill it in tomorrow.

\- Sometimes, Padawan mine, you are downright scary”, Qui-Gon said, watching a smile blossom on Obi-Wan’s face once more. “Off you go, now, Obi-Wan. Get some rest.”

His Padawan rose and made his way to the door. Once there, however, he turned back towards Qui-Gon, brow slightly furrowed.

“Master, are you really going to keep that plant?

\- Obi-Wan, how many times do I have to tell you her name is Valentine?”

His Padawan’s eyes turned stormy, reminding Qui-Gon of just how young he still was – despite his clever mind and his manners.

“Master, she almost bit my hand off. She’s from _Draboon_. She might be full of venomites.

\- Yes, Padawan mine. And her leaves also helped to alleviate your fever a great deal. What’s more, she’s a wonderful way to gauge the Living Force, and I think she took quite a liking to me.

\- _Everyone_ takes a liking to you, Master”, Obi-Wan replied, one hand braced on the doorframe.

And Qui-Gon was truly surprised to sense that there was not an inch of sarcasm in his Padawan’s words. Just truth, and love, and respect.

And a hint of his old playfulness, _finally_ , as Obi-Wan added:

“For the record – I think you should call her _Bale_ ntine. What with the teeth she displayed.

\- Mhm. And I think you should go to bed, Padawan mine. Getting crossed-eyed and swaying. Very undignified.”

Obi-Wan just huffed and left the kitchen for his room. But Qui-Gon still heard his soft voice through their bond as he left.

_Goodnight, Master. And thank you._

Silence soon fell on their quarters – and Qui-Gon sighed quietly, closing his eyes and meeting the Force, feeling his whole body relax.

They were finally back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So dear ones, for now we are still in the Temple, and we will stay there in the next chapter, that will feature our dear Green friends (Luminara, Kit and Quinlan) and a discussion about love (haha, can't wait to write Nara and Quin...), and also Jocasta Nu because honestly, it's about time we get to the Archives again.  
> Since I'm *finally* on holidays, I might update faster than usual, but if not, stay tuned for the next chapter on Friday!  
> Oh, and the text at the beginning is an adaptation of "Boots of Spanish Leather" by Bob Dylan, but you need to listen to the cover by Mandoline Orange : it's just lovely, especially the girl's voice and the violin... I keep listening to it and in the end I just decided to adapt the strophes at the beginning of each chapter, because it's sweet. Just like Obi.  
> Much love and... thanks!!! I just love writing fics for you <3\. Till soon, Meysun.


	2. Truth or Dare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear ones, here it comes, a new chapter of this still-Green teen fic! You'll see, I had quite a bit of fun writing our favourite Squad as teenies. I hope you will enjoy, and without more words, I leave you to your reading :). See you below, Meysun.

_No there’s nothing you can send me, my own true love /_ _For there’s nothing that I wish to be owning /_ _Just carry yourself back to me unspoiled /_ _From across the lonesome cosmos_

**Coruscant.**

“Truth or dare, Kenobi?”, Quinlan asked, brown eyes glinting with mischief.

Obi-Wan frowned, wondering once more why he had not kept to his room – he had _so many_ lessons to catch up with, much more important than _this_.

But then, perhaps not.

Because these two weeks of trying to worm himself through more than a year of absence from the Temple had been grey and dull – the worry of simply surviving, of _keeping her safe_ dissolving into the familiar frets about assignments and classes that were so _trivial_ it _hurt_.

He was behind several classes and was actually forced to sit in lessons with younger Initiates who were too intimidated to actually bother him, but who did not really _talk_ to him either.

He sparred with Qui-Gon, of course, and he was skilled enough in the Force to take some advanced classes along with Luminara – but they could not always be together, and Obi-Wan’s head was threatening to _explode_ with all the notions he was trying to force in.

And then, thank the Force, Quin and Kit had arrived, barrelled into the Archives and simply _refused_ to listen to his feeble objections about classes and papers – and somehow Obi-Wan had found himself sitting on the roof with them and Luminara, like _before_. With two full bottles of either Savareen brandy or Jawa Juice to share, and an empty one Quinlan was using for a very, _very_ silly game.

“A whiff from a death-stick” – Quin was holding out the horrendous stick in question – “Or… what is your definition of love?”

Obi-Wan placed his glass back on the ground, carefully. He had tipped down a few sips of brandy, probably more than he should have. But that past year had been rough and Qui-Gon had been a bit more liberal than the regular Jedi Master – he had actually shared a swig with him and… _her_ … once, after a particularly trying chase.

This was different, though, and he eyed the death-stick apprehensively. He had been away for _so long_ , and he had no idea how to fit in anymore – he did not want Kit or Quin thinking he was childish, thinking he did not _dare_ …

“Come on, Kenobi, that can’t be so difficult! Just a whiff from a death-stick, or quoting that kriffing Jedi Code, you chose…

\- Quin, don’t pressure him”, Nara said, quietly, blue eyes searching for Obi’s, sending reassurance through the Force.

Obi-Wan did not want _any_ death-stick fumes into his lungs – he hated the very thought of it, because _it was not the Jedi Way_. But he also knew Quinlan could tell he would lie quoting the Code, simply by touching the bottle.

That was what made this game so tricky – they could not lie. Only Quin. And Quin never lied, because he did not care for words.

“Truth”, he whispered, and Quin rolled his eyes.

“And here we go…

\- It’s… loving someone enough to want to take every single burden they have on your shoulders, and still feel strong enough to take more. It’s… missing them fiercely when they are away, and feeling like you are becoming a better person when they are around.”

It felt so true. It felt so _necessary_. It felt like using words for tears.

“And it’s… being intimate. Knowing that person so much that you are familiar with little habits, and ways of reacting, and the way… the way they wake up or rise they eyebrows or…”

His voice broke, and he realised his friends were staring at him, wide-eyed and completely silent – he felt himself blush fiercely, and his fingers tightened around the fabric of his trousers.

“Force, Obi”, Kit finally said, black eyes shining under the stars. “That’s not the Jedi Code at all…

\- That’s kriffing poetry. Unless it’s what you think about Master Qui-Gon, then it’s just… _creepy_.”

Obi-Wan had to huff at Quin’s words, shaking his head – but his eyes were burning, and suddenly Nara was taking his hand in hers, fingers cool and soothing against his palm.

“It happened to you, did it not, Obi? No one can say such words without feeling them, at least once…”

Obi-Wan shrugged, looking at the ground because he did not trust his eyes – then he felt Nara’s soft brush against his shields, and suddenly – because of the _brandy_ , nothing more - he was hiding his face in her very shoulder. She embraced him quietly and held him against her – and all that time Quin and Kit stayed blessedly _silent_.

_It’s okay, Obi. You do not have to tell us. Only if you want to._

Nara had always soothed him. Force and being, she was the friend Obi-Wan felt closest to now, because she never burdened him. She just shone, like a calm beacon, guiding him home, and this time Obi-Wan let her hold him, and allowed himself to drown, for a bit, in the calm ocean of her Force-signature.

“Just so you know… it was not a death-stick. Not really.”

Obi-Wan huffed, once more, against Nara’s shoulder, and used the Force to let the bottle float back towards Quin.

“Truth or dare, Vos?”, he managed to croak, cheek cradled against the soft fabric of Nara’s tunic.

_I’m home, I’m home, I’m home. I’m with my friends, they feel the Force too, they would not have left either. I’m home. I’m home._

“What was the worst item you ever had to read or… keeping silent for full fifteen minutes.

\- Dare, Quin. _Dare_ ”, Kit grinned. “Good one, Obi.”

Quin just huffed, dismissively, the moonlight throwing its rays on his cheeks, making his yellow stripe stand out.

“Without me you’d be so _bored_. I’m not taking that stupid dare. The worst item I ever had to read was on this mission with Master Holme where we were tracking an Ugnaught and where all that was left in the dingy room he stayed in was a pair of stained underpants. You’d never imagine just how much these species fart.

\- Okay, Quin, enough”, Obi-Wan interrupted, wincing in disgust, and he could feel Nara’s silent laughter, shaking her slim frame, as she caught the bottle.

“Truth or dare, Luminara Unduli? Who’s the one among us you would agree to date or… leap to the Council tower and knock, three times, on the window behind Windu’s seat.”

Nara’s frame shook even more.

“That’s absolutely stupid, Quin. I’m not climbing up there. It’s way too easy, and I don’t need to knock on his window to speak with _Master_ Windu.

\- Show off”, Quin grinned and Kit bent towards her, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“So, Nara, which one?”

Luminara did not stir, and her arm around Obi-Wan did not waver one bit.

“My dear Green Squad, I would have thought the answer to be obvious. Should I _really_ be pressured in dating one of you, I’d pick Obi, of course.”

She did not let him move, winking at him as their eyes met.

“Because, my dear boys, Obi perfectly knows I am not interested in men, and would stay sweet and friendly, unlike you both. And because he knows that the one I could eventually muse about, should the Force let me err, is Master Gallia.”

The look on Kit’s and Quin’s faces was absolutely priceless, Kit’s eyes wide as saucers and Quin’s mouth positively gaping.

“Ma- Master Gallia?”, Kit croaked. “Kriffing hells. I- Kriff. I’d never thought we could share _that_ , Nara.

\- How long have you known, Obi?”, Quin asked, turning towards Obi-Wan who was still leaning against Nara, body relaxed enough to begin to feel slightly sleepy.

But then, perhaps it _was_ the brandy.

_You want me to tell them?_

He had asked gently through the Force and Luminara smiled at him.

“When we turned thirteen, Nara was pretty much the only one sparring with me. Because I was smaller, remember? We spent a lot of time together. Sparring, and in the Force. And it never felt awkward. So I… knew.

\- He never asked, though”, Nara said, softly. “He’s not like _you_.

\- Hey, I’m an awesome friend as well, Nara!”, Quin threw in, hotly, and Luminara smiled.

“Of course you are. You all are.

\- So, Obi, nothing happened because Nara wasn’t interested or because you both were not?”, Kit asked, taking a swig of brandy.

“I’m done with truths”, Obi-Wan mumbled, closing his eyes.

“Come o-o-on…”, Quin whined. “You can’t drop a bombshell like that and just leave us sitting there.

\- ‘Course I can. I’m not even seventeen. I could go to Master Windu and tell him you tried to drug me to get truths out of me, _Padawan Vos_.

\- You _wouldn’t_. Not you, _baby Obi_.

\- Not working.

\- Please, please, please…”

Obi-Wan felt a little smile tug at his lips and in the end, he sat up, keeping his hand in Nara’s.

“I was not interested _because_ it was Nara. Because what we shared was… different from romantic love, and completely fulfilling just as it was. We already met in the Force. We already shared ideas. And we were _friends_. There was no need for more.”

_The rest is just breaking our balance._

“I felt just the same”, Nara said softly. “Absolute safety and peace.

\- Kriff, Quin. I don’t feel that when _we_ spar. Safety and peace… _nah_.

\- I’m not romantic, Kit, so stop _whining_. Truth or dare?

\- Nara picks it, not you”, Kit said, leaning back against the chimney. “I don’t trust you, Vos. You have a very, _very_ dirty mind.

\- You’re one to talk, _Fisto_.

\- What is your best memory, Kit, or… skip the next three meals and giving your share to Obi?”

Obi-Wan felt his eyes go wide, and removed his hand from Nara’s, flailing a little and spluttering:

“I don’t… I don’t…

\- Oh no, you’ll certainly not get my share, _Scrawny-Wan_ , no matter how much Nara wants you to fatten up.

\- Hey!

\- Baby Obi is pissed now, Kit… Awww… I like it when you get all riled up, it’s too cute, come and give me a hug, _Ooooobi_ …”

Quin was crawling towards him and Obi-Wan realized too late that he was serious, and probably really drunk – an eyeblink later he was _crushed_ against Quin’s chest, feeling his friend ruffle his short hair.

“I love you, Obi, I really really love you, you know this, don’t you? Always, always, ‘cause you’re my cute little tooka-doll…

\- Quin…”, Obi whispered, stiffening and feeling his cheeks turn very, very red. “Quin, I think you drank too much.

\- Oh Force”, Kit wheezed, doubling up with laughter. “Oh Force. Nara. It’s like – _now_. My best memory is just happening. It’s Quin calling Obi his little… his little… his…”

He paused, wiping tears from his eyes, not helping Obi-Wan one bit who was squirming in Quin’s arms, pressed flush against his friend’s chest.

“Obi, can I kiss you…?”

Quin’s eyes were glassy, unfocused and absolutely dreamy, and he was still holding him firmly against him, Force-signature completely _woozy_.

“Umm… no, please…”

Kit laughed even harder, and Luminara tried to pry Quin’s hand from Obi’s back, but Quin was having none of it.

“I like you here, Obi. You told Master Ti you didn’t mind my hugs.

\- But… Quin, that was… that was _ages_ ago…

\- So you don’t love me anymore? You said… you said…”

Quin’s eyes were slowly filling with tears and Obi-Wan turned towards Nara and Kit, alarmed.

“How much did he drink…?

\- Waaay to much”, Kit huffed. “Two or three glasses, I guess.

\- Oh no”, Obi-Wan whispered, watching Quin’s face begin to crumble. “Oh no, Quin… Quin… it’s okay, you can hug me, it’s going to be alright, I promise…

\- You promise?”, Quinlan asked, in a very, very small voice, hands still firmly fisted in Obi-Wan’s tunic – and there was such sadness in his eyes, suddenly, making his throat feel all tight.

“No Master will ever want us, Obi…

\- Of course they do, Quin”, Obi-Wan whispered, allowing his hand to trail up Quinlan’s back, rubbing gentle circles there. “Master Tholme picked you – and he’s very, very fond of you. And Master Qui-Gon picked me, remember?

\- Mhmmm… Don’t like it”, Quin pouted, leaning his head on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, and his breath definitely smelled of brandy, but Obi did not care.

“What is it you don’t like, Quin?

\- He’s taking you ‘way. ‘lways ‘way. Never there. ‘nd you’re s’pposed to use So-re-su. Not A-ta-ru.”

Quinlan was articulating the words very clearly and Obi-Wan felt his chest tighten. He stiffened, stilling in Quin’s arms, and met Kit and Nara’s eyes.

“Is this what he thinks? Is this what you all think?”, Obi-Wan asked, very quietly – and he felt his throat go even tighter than his chest when both Nara and Kit failed to answer him, for a while.

“Don’t like this g’me ‘nymore”, Quin whispered, fiddling with Obi-Wan’s braid, and then Nara spoke softly:

“We were worried for you, this past year, Obi. We missed you.

\- You were gone a long time. And Master Qui-Gon, well… he’s not the best about keeping the Council informed”, Kit supplied.

“ _Qui-Gon, quick gone, always gone_ …”, Quin sang softly against Obi-Wan’s chest. “ _Qui-Gon, Obi gone, all gone_ …”

Obi-Wan’s hands stilled on Quinlan’s back, and he bit his lip, hard. And then he tried to take a deep breath. And another. And another after that.

“You don’t need to worry about me”, he whispered. “I’m fine. It was a long mission, but we succeeded, and we are back now.

\- Didn’t miss _us_ ”, Quin slurred. “Not Obi. N’ver talks ‘bout ‘nything.

\- That’s not true…”, Obi-Wan let out, still facing Kit and Nara above Quin’s back. “That’s not true.”

_I missed you. I missed having you around in the Force. I missed sharing being a Jedi with you, and feeling you next to me._

He did not say the words aloud. He just hugged Quin, quietly, and when Nara and Kit stayed silent, he simply started rubbing circles into his friend’s back once more.

“You don’t talk to us, Obi… You don’t seek us out”, Kit said, quietly. “We are allowed to have friends, you know… We are allowed to talk about… things.”

Quin had closed his eyes and his head was beginning to droop, soon resting against Obi-Wan’s shoulder. He was getting heavier, though, and Nara sensed his discomfort, moving to help him slide Quin down on the ground, resting his head on her lap.

And Obi-Wan found himself feeling very cold, without the furnace of Quin’s body against him.

“I… have nothing to say. There’s nothing to _say_.”

His voice broke on the last word, but Obi-Wan went on, stubbornly:

“We can’t _change_ it. We can’t make it _better_. We can just… accept it and let go. That’s what I learnt on Ilum, long ago. And there’s no way to make it better.

\- You never told us you _let go_ , on Ilum, Obi...

\- Because you never asked, Kit!”

There were tears in Obi-Wan’s eyes, suddenly. Because _she_ had asked. She had wanted to know everything, about his past, about Ilum, about his crystal and who he was. And it had felt so wonderful telling her – because she had _asked_.

“You never asked! Why do you ask now? Why do you… what does it matter now? I’m not talking enough, I don’t care, I’m not supposed to use Ataru, my Master is careless and so am I, and what’s next, I wonder? What am I supposed to do, Kit? What am I supposed to do to make it right and feel like I belong here, because _I. Don’t. Know_.”

A hot, single tear ran down Obi-Wan’s cheek and he wiped it, with a fierce, childish move that also belonged _before_.

“Hey, Obi… Hey…”

_We don’t want you to change._

Kit’s voice was soothing in the Force. Obi had stood up, and Kit extended his hands towards him, letting the Force shine gently in his palms.

“I lied, before. It was Bantha fodder. My favourite memory is not Quin calling you a tooka-doll. It’s _Ilum_ , Obi… What we shared together, there. When I spotted my crystal and was afraid to get it, and then Quin told me how to climb, and Nara reassured me. And you… you looked into the Force and told me I would get it. I have never believed harder in the Force than that day. And it’s all thanks to you three. That’s why I love this memory so much.”

Obi-Wan felt another tear roll down his cheek.

“I don’t believe in the Force so much, right now…”, he said, voice very small. “I think… I think the Force is disappointed with me.

\- I don’t think so, Obi”, Nara threw in, quietly, fingers carding through Quin’s hair who was still fast asleep. “I don’t think the Force is disappointed.

\- I think you are”, Kit said quietly. “I think you are angry at yourself, Obi.

\- Because you came back?”, Nara asked, softly, blue eyes finding his – and there was no judgment, no disappointment, just kindness and concern.

Obi-Wan shook his head, quietly.

“Because you almost didn’t…”, Kit finally voiced. “Because it still hurts.”

And Obi-Wan nodded.

And when his friend finally made the step to cradle him against his chest, in a way that was opposite to Quin’s drunken hug but felt just as warm, he closed his eyes – asking the Force to _please make it better and forgive him_.

“There’s nothing to forgive, Obi… We are glad you came back”, Kit said, very quietly. “We are glad you came back.”

The moon shone, quietly, on the abandoned bottle, making it look like crystal through the tears clinging to Obi’s lashes he soon pushed back, letting out a huff when he heard Quin begin to snore.

“What are we going to do? About him?”, he asked, letting go of Kit and crouching next to Quin and Nara.

And Nara simply smiled at him, blue eyes like the midnight sky.

“We are going to bring him home, Obi.”

***

Qui-Gon placed the commlink back on the low table, frowning, acknowledging the deep trouble he felt – but then, he did not expect anything else from a call from Rael Averross.

Dooku had always called him reckless – well, Qui-Gon wondered what words he used for Rael, because that man was nothing but a _hyperstorm_.

A worried hyperstorm, though, judging from the conversation they just had – and no wonder. The situation on Pijal had escalated and become absolute chaos, and Rael was right – it absolutely had to stop.

What worried Qui-Gon, though, or rather _who_ , was this Princess Fanry Rael had kept talking about. Who was headstrong, reckless, and sixteen years old – and Qui-Gon had had his fill of wilful female nobility, especially around his Padawan.

Satine had been more than enough.

Qui-Gon sighed, looking at his chrono, realizing for the first time how late it was. Obi-Wan had not come back to their quarters yet, and Qui-Gon sighed, hoping the young one was not looming over his data-pads in the Archives. His Padawan was taking his studies so _seriously_ it worried him – he could not remember obsessing over his essays and lessons like Obi-Wan did, and it had earned him more than a sharp jibe from Dooku.

_But I am not Dooku. And I’m dragging my Padawan out of there, by his braid if I must. That boy needs rest, and sleep._

With that resolve, Qui-Gon stood up, and headed straight for the Archives.

The familiar hall was dark, but the holobooks helped casting a blue, shrouded light looking much like hyperspace, and always reminded Qui-Gon of a tall, roomy vessel. He had always liked the Archives better at night – probably because Madame Nu got softer, then, and tended to ease his research a _tiny_ bit more than in full daylight.

He crossed the hall, searching the seats, but there was no sight of Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon climbed the stairs, quietly, searching for his Padawan’s favourite nook under the rosette, and was surprised to find the benches empty on the upper halls as well.

“Master Qui-Gon, what a late pleasure…”

He turned and smiled at Madame Nu, bowing deeply – the Chief Librarian was one of the rare among his fellow-Jedi to be able to make him squirm, because Jocasta Nu’s mind was just… sharp as a blade.

Obi-Wan squirmed in front of Mace Windu, Saesee Tinn and the Jedi Council as a whole – but he loved Yoda, Plo Koon and Adi Gallia. And of course, he had Jocasta Nu wrapped around his finger, like the little over-achiever he was.

Qui-Gon, on the other hand, tended to feel uncomfortable around Madame Nu and Vokara Che when she was in a bad mood – the way she managed to cuddle Obi-Wan while hissing at him always left him befuddled.

And of course, _Dooku_ – but that was because Dooku and him had _fallen out_. No matter what Rael had tried to sell him, just before. Rael had not been there when Feemor had passed into the Force – but Qui-Gon did not want to dwell upon it, not now, and certainly not _here_.

“Madame Nu, do you happen to know where my young Apprentice is?”

Jocasta Nu’s face softened instantly – and Qui-Gon silently vowed to brooch the topic with Obi-Wan, very soon, because it was just _too funny_ seeing the young one get all flustered and red.

“Obi-Wan was here, but he has left a few hours ago. He was quite swept away, I should think… By a green whirlwind consisting of Quinlan Vos and Kit Fisto – quietly backed up by Luminara Unduli.

\- Ah… Those four are together once more, I see… That’s good...”

It _was_. Force knew it was. Obi-Wan needed friends to vent about him and their past mission, and he needed a space to be a teen, not the dutiful Padawan he strived so hard to be. It had been too long since he had heard Obi-Wan laugh, for real, or act like the sixteen-year-old boy he was.

“They are probably on the Temple roof”, Jocasta Nu said. “But I would not disturb them, were I you. What you do not see, you do not need to condemn, Master Qui-Gon.”

And then Madame Nu _winked_ at him, almost causing him to stare back – because he would never have expected such humour and leniency from _her_ , of all people. 

“My very thoughts, Madame Nu… Thank you for this insight.

\- Is there something else I can do for you, Master Qui-Gon? Something seems to be burdening your mind…”

Qui-Gon sighed, quietly – and then he decided to follow whatever gentle nudge the Force had given him, leading him there.

“I just got a call from Rael Averross.”

Madame Nu arched her eyebrows, pensively.

“I see. Lord Regent of Pijal, for now, if I am not mistaken…

\- You are not, Madame Nu. Lord Regent he is indeed for a Princess Fanry who seems to have started a true civil war, and is in way over her head…

\- No doubt”, Madame Nu commented, sharp features pinched in slight displeasure. “From what I heard – but I might be wrong – she really should have watched her tongue, when she refused to free those slaves.”

Once more, Qui-Gon watched her in silent astonishment.

“Madame Nu, you never cease to amaze me.

\- You flatter me, Qui-Gon. There are just certain topics I try to follow. Slavery is one among them – because I cannot stand it. And I think that young Princess has forgotten what her true goal truly was.

\- It is what Rael thinks as well. I’m more pessimistic. I think she planned everything all along – and that now the mess on Pijal is complete.

\- Hmm… And Master Averross wants you to come and help him undo this mess, is that it?

\- Yes. I think, however, that I am not the right Jedi for this. I don’t get on so well with Rael. He’s completely partial to this Fanry. And then there’s Obi-Wan…

\- You do not trust your Padawan with this young Fanry?”, Madame Nu asked, quietly. “He will probably be quite wary, don’t you think…?”

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow, wondering once more just _how much_ Madame Nu really picked up, from the depths of her Archives.

“I rather do not trust _Fanry_ with Obi-Wan. Lately it seems to me I keep trying to pry girls away from my Padawan – it’s a very weird sensation, and I can assure you, it does not make me feel young at all.”

Madame Nu smiled at that, blue eyes flashing humorously.

“That, my dear Qui-Gon, is because your Padawan is quite the charmer, and because he is completely, _adorably_ oblivious of it.

\- May it stay that way”, Qui-Gon grumbled. “That past mission was enough, I can assure you.

\- I can imagine that. Well, Master Qui-Gon, I wish you luck… Perhaps it would be good for both of you to go to Pijal. Perhaps you both have issues to settle there. But then, again, I might be mistaken, and you would do well to heed the Council’s advice on this. Good night, and may the Force be with you, Qui-Gon.

\- May the Force be with you, Madame Nu.”

And with a last bow, Qui-Gon left the Archives, still deep in thought, but a bit less troubled.

He found Obi-Wan in his room, already asleep. The door was ajar, and he watched his Padawan quietly from the doorstep, marvelling at how young he still looked, curled up like that.

He had folded his clothes neatly on the chair, and his room was tidy and spotless, as always. But Qui-Gon smiled as he probed Obi-Wan’s Force signature, because there was a definite whiff of tipsiness there, as well as the smudge of other Force-signatures. No doubt his Padawan had lived a few strong moments on the Temple roof – and no doubt, as well, that it was none of Qui-Gon’s business, as Madame Nu had so rightly pointed out.

_Sleep well, Padawan mine._

He sent those words quietly through their bond and watched Obi-Wan turn slightly towards him in his sleep, nose scrunching up like a little tooka, before burrowing into his pillow once more.

And Qui-Gon decided it was high time to leave Pijal and its worries for the morrow and to get some well-needed sleep as well, just like his very, _very_ young Padawan.

Qui-Gon smiled, and quietly closed Obi-Wan’s door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I hope you enjoyed the "truth or dare" game and the return of beloved Madame Nu in my fics <3 !!! For those who have not read my other Still Green Stories, the Ilum episode is described in Chapter Three of "Blossoms in the Wind", and the relationship between little Obi and little Quin is described in this fic, as is the reason for Qui-Gon falling out with Dooku. Madame Nu however is only in "There Is No Pain" that is much sadder -- she is, however, amazingly smart whenever I write her :).
> 
> Do not wonder if the situation on Pijal seems quite confused, it will get clearer in the next chapter featuring the Council, and explanations.  
> I was super excited when I realised that Rael Averross was actually Dooku's first Padawan - of course I'm the one deciding "yeah let's write Pijal", starting my fic and doing a lot of research later :p!! That way I can surprise myself and always pick "dare" in Quin's game :)!! Hope you liked this, there's obviously more to come. See you next Friday and meanwhile take care! Much love, Meysun.


	3. Collisions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear ones, and another chapter of the Pijal fic, where action actually begins :-). I apologize in advance for the probable technical inaccuracies in this chapter - and also, for those who actually read the real Pijal-story, this has probably nothing to do with it either. I hope you'll enjoy this nonetheless, and I thank you very much for sticking around and for your kind comments, as always! Enjoy I hope, Meysun.

_Oh but I just thought you might want something fine / Made of silver or of golden / Either from the mountains of Juran / Or the coast of Apalis_

**Coruscant, Jedi Temple.**

The morning light was still dim in the Council tower, but Qui-Gon was already beginning to feel the city’s heat on his skin. It did nothing to alleviate his mood, that was steadily beginning to sour.

“Explain to us, you will, why send another Jedi to Pijal we should”, Yoda said, firmly, brown eyes meeting his unflinchingly.

Qui-Gon barely suppressed a sigh and made sure none of the Council members ignored the way he _forcibly_ pushed his irritation back into the Force. Next to him, he felt Obi-Wan’s signature flinch and somehow this irked him as well – the boy really had to learn that the Council members were _Jedi_ , not _gods_.

“Master Averross told me that Pijal is currently divided in many factions. The few loyal to Princess Fanry are fighting against the Pijali supporting the slaves. Ironically, it seems that Czerka Corporation Fanry was so eager to bring down is rather supportive of her, and there are those like Rael who would rather have a peace treaty.

\- And you are unqualified to be sent there _because_ …?”, Mace Windu’s deep voice echoed, customary frown firmly in place. “We are aware of the situation on Pijal, Qui-Gon, thank you. I don’t see why you and your Padawan should not go, straight away.

\- Because we just came back!”, Qui-Gon snapped, right back at Mace, and once more, he could feel his Padawan’s start in the Force. “It has been fourteen months, and Obi-Wan is behind his studies already. I don’t think it wise for him to get away from the Temple, straight into another diplomatic conflict, Force knows we got our share on the past mission!”

Mace just raised an eyebrow, but Qui-Gon felt _shame_ and _sadness_ and _hurt_ seep through Obi-Wan’s shields, bleeding into their training bond – his Padawan seemed to fold onto himself, becoming quiet and small in the Force. Almost disappearing.

“Tired of long missions you are, young Obi-Wan?”

Trust Yoda to have picked up the boy’s wish to hide – Qui-Gon could feel Obi-Wan begin to squirm slightly in the Force, clearly upset.

“They require different abilities than the shorter ones, Grandmaster”, his Padawan forced out, voice ever so soft – and Yoda harrumphed, because of course, this was no real answer.

“I see here”, Mace Windu began, strolling through a data-pad, “That you are indeed behind some theoretical classes, Padawan Kenobi. However, your lightsaber training has improved, according to your instructors, as well as your telekinesis. And as for rhetoric, philosophy and basic strategy, well, you were quite ahead already before you left for Mandalore. This leaves…

\- What classes exactly are you taking, Obi-Wan?”, Plo Koon asked, gently. “You are almost a senior Padawan now, aren’t you, you should be able to pick and choose a bit more?”

Qui-Gon turned slightly towards Obi-Wan, because truly, he had no real idea of the boy’s schedule – he was so independent he was only rarely asking Qui-Gon’s advice for his assignments. The boy’s face was pale and, though Obi-Wan had slammed his shields shut as soon as Qui-Gon had stopped talking, he could tell how uncomfortable his Padawan felt under the Council’s scrutiny.

“I am behind physics and mechanics, Masters. And planet history. And biology, chemistry and botany. Cryptology and transmissions. And Twi’lek.

\- Your Mando’a should be fluent now though, shouldn’t it?”, Master Ki-Adi Mundi asked, and Qui-Gon watched Obi-Wan’s face lose all colour.

“Yes, Master”, Obi-Wan whispered – and Yoda harrumphed once more.

“Too many classes you are taking, young Obi-Wan. Fit fourteen months into fourteen days, you cannot. Field experience, a hard teacher often is. Discard its lessons, one should not, hmm?”

The Grandmaster somehow managed to make his Padawan lift his eyes from the ground, and something in Obi-Wan seemed to quieten as Yoda added:

“Share Master Qui-Gon’s worries about your studies, I do not.

\- Neither do I”, Adi Gallia said, warmly, and Obi-Wan’s face seemed to regain some colour, cheeks even turning slightly pink. “However, Master Qui-Gon has a point about long field missions: they are tiring, and sometimes we all need to reconnect with the Temple and with the Force.”

Adi’s warmth would have made him melt, Qui-Gon thought, privately, and for a brief moment he actually believed he had won the round, and kept them both off Pijal, and Rael’s antics. But Obi-Wan simply closed off, into the Force - the only thing melting were his _thrice-accursed shields, one into the other_ , banishing every feeling deep into his very core.

And his stubborn, _stubborn_ Padawan just looked at Master Gallia with bright, burning grey eyes and said nothing at all.

“May I ask for your thoughts, about Pijal, young Obi-Wan?”, Plo Koon asked, and this time Qui-Gon felt something across their bond, a distressed call sounding suspiciously like _what should I answer, Master?_

But Qui-Gon’s patience was definitely missing today, and this was quite a good lesson for Obi-Wan who was always struggling with getting in the foreground.

 _On your own, Padawan_ , he sent back. _Time to shine._

The boy was clearly flustered now, but Qui-Gon soon heard his voice rise:

“I think we need to be careful of Czerka Corporation. Princess Fanry’s accusations against them seemed to be true, since slaves were found on the _Leverage_ – the ship she tried to destroy. It is not the first time such accusations are made about them.”

Mace raised an eyebrow and folded his hands beneath his chin, interest clearly piqued – and well might he.

For his part, Qui-Gon struggled with his own astonishment, and had a hard time not staring open-mouthed at his way-too-clever, unbelievably-informed Padawan – _seriously, when did the boy make room for all this, among the rest of his assignments?!_

“Go on”, Windu said, quietly – and Obi-Wan obeyed. _Of course_ he obeyed.

“Several years ago, Master Qui-Gon and Master… Master Dooku went on a mission to Hosnian Prime. With Chancellor Valorum. Because Czerka Corporation was suspected to hold slaves there. Pijal is much further away from the Republic. It does not seem far fetched to think that they might have translocated some of their shadier activities there.”

_Enough, Padawan._

He had never expected Obi-Wan to connect Pijal with _that_ mission – to be able to make such links in the single hour he had had between waking up, getting informed of Rael’s call, and meeting the Council – and he did not like this.

Qui-Gon projected the words along their bond at the precise moment Mace repeated: “Go on”, and Obi-Wan stopped, clearly torn between them.

The silence stretched for a few seconds, and then Mace sighed.

“Go on, Kenobi, no matter how hard your Master projects. I want to hear your thoughts, not _his_ – no offence, Qui-Gon, but you have already made your point pretty clear.”

Qui-Gon exhaled, audibly, shaking his head. And next to him, his foolish and oh-so-young Padawan fell straight into the Council’s trap.

“The question raised through this situation is: what does Princess Fanry really fight for, and what do the Pijali truly want? Because it seems that what she disguised as a fight for her people to free the planet from Czerka’s influence was not truly about battling slavery. Master Averross seems to think that Princess Fanry needs help – but perhaps the more objective angle would be to investigate about slavery on Pijal, and take appropriate measures…”

Obi-Wan’s voice had faltered, slowly, towards the end of his talk, self-confidence waning with his words.

“But that might be idealistic, Masters…”, he almost whispered.

Adi smiled at him, and so did Plo, behind his mask, judging by the tilt of his head. Mace only unlaced his fingers, face impassive.

“A tad, perhaps”, he conceded. “But that doesn’t make you unqualified. Rather the opposite, I should think. The situation definitely needs an _objective angle_ , as you put it.

\- Investigate about slavery on Pijal, you both shall”, Master Yoda said, tone brooking no argument. “Find out what the Princess’ intentions are, you shall endeavour. Perhaps time it is, as well, for Master Averross to come home. Judge of this you shall be with him, Master Qui-Gon.”

_Your brother-in-lineage, Rael is as well. Need you, he does. Do not forsake this._

Qui-Gon knew when a battle was lost, and the Force was _pushing_ inside him, urging him to stop fighting. It did not please him, but its will was clear. And so he quietly bowed, Obi-Wan mirroring him.

“Yes, Grandmaster. We shall leave immediately.”

He waited for the Council door to close, and for them to leave the Council Tower, not a word passing his lips as they used the lift. Qui-Gon waited for them to be back on Temple ground, and then he turned towards Obi-Wan, finally making room for his annoyance.

“Next time, Padawan, remind me not to use the word _enough_. Because you have obviously forgotten what it means. Perhaps I should have said _luubid_ instead?”

His tone was icy, as always when he was seething – and Qui-Gon realized once more that this was something he was not proud to have learned from his former Master. In fact, he was not proud at all to seethe – he just hated the way the Council always managed to make their decisions sound sensible and wise, even when they were purely _convenient_.

Playing the Mando’a card was a very low move, though – and Qui-Gon regretted it instantly. Hurt blossomed in Obi-Wan’s eyes and his Padawan went absolutely still, thin features as pale as the marble around them.

Their bond was mute once more, but this time, rather than a door slamming shut, it felt like a quickly snuffed-out candle – its light and heat a vivid memory that still echoed between them.

“I am sorry, Master”, Obi-Wan said quietly. Tonelessly.

And Qui-Gon _hated_ that it was his Padawan who apologized, once more.

“Obi-Wan, my last sentence was absolutely unnecessary, and I take it back.”

Nothing changed in the Force, though, Obi-Wan still facing him with that hollow look in his eyes, bond mute and shields impenetrable.

“However, I am very unhappy with the Council’s decision. Yoda, Adi and Mace may be satisfied with your assignments, but I as your Master still think that it is unwise to head out so quickly after Mandalore. Especially for you.”

His Padawan raised his eyes, then, and Qui-Gon was shocked to see tears shining in them, because Obi-Wan had not cried in front of him for _years_.

“I am aware of that, Master”, his Padawan voiced – and his calm tone, and the way he pushed his tears back with a single blink put Qui-Gon back on edge.

“Are you mocking me, Padawan?”, he let out, voice very low, and he watched heat creep back on Obi-Wan’s cheeks.

The boy’s composure was cracking, his breathing fast and uneven.

“No, Master”, he managed to let out. “I’m going to pack our things.”

And with that strangled sentence, Obi-Wan bowed, hurriedly, and almost ran from him, quick steps leading him straight into Quinlan Vos’ chest.

“Hey, Obi!”, Vos smiled. “Still up for that sparring session?”

Qui-Gon had followed him, because there was no way he would let Obi-Wan just _run_ from him, especially not in that upset state – he had stayed a few steps back, though, not wanting to crowd him.

And so he watched Obi-Wan shake his head, mutely – watched Quinlan frown, hands moving towards Obi-Wan’s elbows and staying there.

“What is it, Obi?”

He did not hear Obi-Wan’s answer. Perhaps there was none – his Padawan was much better at projecting, especially when he was upset. Quinlan’s face definitely darkened, though, and he shook his head, Padawan-braid whipping unruly black locks.

“They don’t give you _any_ break, do they now?”

Obi-Wan seemed to fold on himself, and Qui-Gon heard Quinlan answer:

“Don’t say such things. It’s not true. I’ll help you pack. I’m awesome at making things _fit_ , you know.”

 _That_ , Force bless him, made his Padawan let out a small huff.

“Why is it _you_ get all the girls, in your missions?”, Quinlan asked, hooking his arm with Obi-Wan’s and prying another huff out of him.

And Qui-Gon watched him lead his Padawan away. _Away from him_ , clearly, because Vos’ eyes were very dark as they looked back at him – Quinlan was obviously thinking the Pijal mission was _his_ idea, but Qui-Gon could not find it in him to chide or correct him. Not with the hurt in Obi-Wan’s eyes still so clear in his mind, not with the cold, foreign way their bond felt right now.

What his Padawan needed, obviously, was a friend close enough to take his side, no matter how biased it was. And so Qui-Gon made himself scarce, making sure to ready their ship, and only came back to their quarters an hour afterwards, checking that Obi-Wan was alone once more through the Force.

He found his Padawan in the living-room leaning against the window, small bags packed and ready at his feet. Their beds were unmade, sheets already removed, the blinds were drawn and the kitchen spotless and empty.

Obi-Wan was looking at the plant he had brought back from Draboon, and Valentine was hissing quietly at him.

_Get lost, Balentine._

The boy’s projection was low and sad in the Force, and Obi-Wan turned towards the window, drawing the blinds and switching on the light for Qui-Gon.

And for the briefest of moments, Valentine lost her fierce and toothy aspect, turning delicate, purple flowers towards his Padawan that somehow matched his sorrow in the Force.

“Obi-Wan?

\- I’m ready, Master.”

He bent to pick up their bags and Qui-Gon looked at his boy, still lanky in the many layers of his Jedi clothes, auburn hair rising in unruly spikes at the back of his head, like a hedgehog. He let affection flood their bond and watched Obi-Wan’s moves still.

_I’m not angry at you, Padawan. I’m worried._

Serious grey eyes met his at last, and Qui-Gon realized Obi-Wan was still hurt. And that it had, actually, not much to do with his scolding. No, as he carefully probed at the boy’s shields through their bonds, it seemed that his Padawan was hurt by his… _worry?_ _By what he had told the Council?_

_You don’t think I am able for another mission. You don’t think I’m able to let go. You think I’m behind my studies. You don’t think I can help._

“Force, Obi-Wan, this is Bantha fodder, and you know it.”

His Padawan just stood there, thin and straight like a reed in the wind, and Qui-Gon sighed – how someone as frail and tiny managed to embody a durasteel wall of defiance with his simple _posture_ would never cease to amaze him.

“Obi-Wan, I used your studies as a _pretext_. I might worry for you, but this is private. The mission on Mandalore… I just told them it was _long_. I never questioned your commitment, and I won’t. _Ever_.

\- A pretext?”

Fine. At least the boy was talking again.

“Yes, Padawan. A kriffing _pretext_. I don’t want to clean up Rael’s mess, not again. And I don’t want this Princess Fanry around you, because she’s a little manipulator, from everything I have read and heard about her.

\- I don’t care for Princess Fanry!”

There was heat in Obi-Wan’s words, and in his eyes – and Qui-Gon smiled, softly, taking a step towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder. And Obi-Wan did not shake him off, just gazed up at him, silent fury still edged into his very being.

“I know, Padawan… I trust your mind, and your heart. You do not know Rael Averross yet, but I promise you that what we will find on Pijal will be a real, _real_ mess. I do not think he thinks clearly, and I think this Fanry knows it. And I had hoped to avoid messes around us, for a few quiet weeks.

\- Master Averross is your brother-in-lineage”, Obi-Wan whispered, anger leaking out of him, back into the Force. “I don’t understand why you are so reluctant to help him. He’s your _brother_.”

Valentine curled on herself again, purple flowers turning towards them, and Qui-Gon realized, then. That it was _still_ about letting go, about finding himself in the Force and among those he could call _family_ , for his young, so young and tender-hearted Padawan.

“Obi-Wan, what Rael and I… What we are _supposed_ to have – because it is not much, believe me… It has nothing to do with what _you_ call brotherhood. Rael is not caring, protective and reliable. He has never been. I might be his younger brother-in-lineage. But I can assure you that the way your brother Owen cared… or the way your friend Quinlan cares… is as far away from Rael’s relationship with me as it can be.”

Obi-Wan’s shoulders had slumped, Qui-Gon could feel it under his palm, and he drew the boy against him, enveloping him in a warm hug, crossing his arms on his back and holding him close.

“I’m afraid I’m very bad at initiating and nurturing bonds, Padawan”, he joked, quietly, and Obi-Wan hugged him back, compassion flooding the Force around him.

“I’m sorry, Master. I’m sorry.

\- Don’t be, little one. I told you. I’m a crooked, tough vine. Just like Valentine – that’s why we get on so well. The only ones that are more twisted are the members of the Council, who use my sharp-minded and kind-hearted Padawan to send me clean up Rael’s mess.”

Obi-Wan stiffened in his arms, and Qui-Gon rubbed his back.

“You need to learn to tell them no, Obi-Wan. But you will, in due time. Don’t fret about it now – what is done is done. I don’t think the Force would have let us avoid Pijal, as a matter of fact.”

They soon left, closing their quarters’ door, boarding their small ship, and Qui-Gon carefully entered Pijal’s coordinates, calculating that they would arrive in about sixteen standard hours.

Coruscant was soon nothing more than a dot behind them, and Qui-Gon made the jump to hyperspace a few seconds afterwards, promptly letting the autopilot take over.

The ship was small, but their seats were quite comfortable, and he watched Obi-Wan take off his boots and adopt the lotus pose, sliding a data-pad on his lap and beginning to read.

Qui-Gon got up and stretched with a sigh. If he was supposed to meet Rael and spend more than a few days with him, he might as well use the reprieve of their trip to meditate, and to let go of his sense of unease and irritation into the Force. He stretched his cloak on the ground, removed his boots as well, and sat down in a pose not unlike Obi-Wan’s, closing his eyes.

He emerged a few hours afterwards, feeling refreshed, and shook his head quietly when he saw Obi-Wan still reading, eyes squinting slightly and hand unconsciously rubbing at his temple.

He probed their bond carefully – the boy was reading; it was always easier when he was absorbed by something – and soon found the telling pulses of a headache Obi-Wan was Force-pushing back.

Qui-Gon got up, quietly, and bent over the navigation computer, checking various buttons, making sure their route towards hyperspace was still clear. And then, he slowly approached his Padawan, taking a look at his screen – Czerka’s homepage, apparently – and placed a hand on Obi-Wan’s neck, rubbing at the muscles under his fingertips.

The boy instantly melted against his palm, letting out a sigh – Qui-Gon was pretty sure _no one_ in the Galaxy knew it was the best way to make his Padawan relax, and switch instantly from moody teenager to purring tooka.

He quietly closed his Padawan’s data-pad and went on kneading the tensions out of the boy’s neck, other hand resting against his skull, fingertips intent on absorbing his pain and releasing it into the Force.

“That was a full-blown migraine brewing, Padawan…”, he gently chided, once Obi-Wan was fully relaxed, loose-limbed and rosy-cheeked against his side.

“Hmmm…”, Obi-Wan just muttered.

“You need to be attentive to that, Obi-Wan. You can’t just Force-push your pain back and expect everything to go away on its own.

\- Hmmm.”

Qui-Gon carded his hand through Obi-Wan’s hair, realizing his Padawan was about to fall asleep on him.

“And you can’t keep having a migraine every time we disagree, little one. It is going to happen again, you know… We can’t have you in pain every single time, can we…?”

Obi-Wan’s breathing had begun to even out, and his Padawan frowned, head tilting slowly towards Qui-Gon’s side. Just before sleep claimed him, Obi-Wan managed to rise his hand and place it on Qui-Gon’s forearm.

_It’s okay, Master. ‘m fine. ‘m fine._

Qui-Gon just carded his hand through the boy’s hair once more. Hyperspace had always lulled Obi-Wan to sleep, even as a little boy, and he gently lowered the seat, spreading his Padawan’s cloak upon his sleeping form.

And then he pulled Obi-Wan’s data-pad towards him. Because his boy was right, it was high time to read up on Czerka Corporation and its more or less shady activities.

***

**Pijal Hyperspace Corridor**

Obi-Wan woke up in nearly complete silence, feeling more rested and relaxed than in weeks. It almost seemed like the Force was cradling him, and as he sat up, rubbing his eyes, trying to smooth down his hair, he realized what must have happened.

“Master, you _Force-suggested_ me…”

His voice was rough with sleep and Qui-Gon smiled at him, seated in the chair next to him, looking as composed as ever.

“Maybe. You hardly needed encouragement though, Padawan.”

Obi-Wan rubbed his eyes again, fighting back a yawn.

“Did you sleep, Master? How long was I out?

\- About nine hours, Padawan. And yes, I slept along, for a few hours.”

Nine hours was an _awfully_ long time, and more than enough. Obi-Wan promptly discarded his cloak and got up – quickly draping it back around him though as he remembered this was _hyperspace_ , equalling cold, especially without boots.

He rummaged through his bag and came back with a thermos jug and two ration-bars, handing one to his Master, pouring some tea into a cup.

“Force knows I did not miss those, Obi-Wan”, Qui-Gon joked, but he smiled warmly at him as he wrapped his hands around the cup. “Bless you for the tea, little one. I can’t believe you took time to make some.

\- You were grumpy”, Obi-Wan replied, playfully, and Qui-Gon chuckled, warmth permeating their bond, making him feel strangely at peace.

He liked hyperspace. He liked the quiet, the sensation to be somewhat closer to the Force there, because hyperspace was shrouded, full of light and yet full of mysteries. Every star had its shadow counterpart in hyperspace, every planet as well – and Obi-Wan sometimes got almost dizzy trying to figure out how he could be both there in hyperspace and yet travelling through it.

Maybe it was because his real body and his shadow-body actually met there, becoming one in the Force.

“Good morning, dear cogs and wheels of my Padawan’s mind. It’s nice to see you up, about and already fuming.”

Qui-Gon was still chuckling, pushing the thermos jug and the matching cup towards him.

“Eat, Obi-Wan. And drink some tea. For your real- and your shadow-body.”

 _You’re such a_ tease _, Master_.

He ate his ration-bar, though – oatmeal and apricot, apparently – and savoured his tea, quietly, wrapped in his cloak, slowly emptying his mind, as his Master had made sure to teach him.

He was ready for meditation when he finished eating, and soon slipped back into the lotus pose he favoured, closing his eyes.

_I’m at peace. I’m in hyperspace. In light and shadow, in the Force. I’m at peace…_

The Force flooded through his chest, vivid and warm, and Obi-Wan breathed in and out, quietly, basking in its feeling. He was blessed to be able to sense it, he knew that. And it was so hard to explain to non-sensitive people, who mistook it for intuition, or instinct, when the Force was so much more. Sometimes it seemed like the purpose behind an action, sometimes like the essence of compassion… But mostly, it was the web linking everything together, and Obi-Wan was just a tiny knot in it.

And it was fine to be a tiny knot. He did not want to be more, not really. More was just scary, and silly, actually, because size did not mean anything in the Force. It always changed. It always flowed. And it was infinite anyway…

Obi-Wan soon lost himself in it – and when he opened his eyes, Qui-Gon was preparing the jump out of hyperspace, carefully monitoring the computer. He quickly pulled on his boots and sat next to his Master, obeying Qui-Gon’s orders – and Pijal soon appeared before them, a patchwork of green and orange rising out of space.

“Almost there, Padawan”, Qui-Gon voiced.

And that was when the first rocket hit them, causing the ship to quake and the computer to start blaring. Obi-Wan quickly bent towards the screen, trying to assess what was hitting them – it seemed to be a small device, probably a starfighter.

Their ship had only two cannons, though, and by the time Obi-Wan pulled them out, they had been hit again, one of their reactors had caught fire and planet ground was approaching dangerously _fast_.

The sensors were still screeching, alarms blaring, and Obi-Wan fired a charge against the starfighter, trying to assess who the pilot was, unease slowly creeping up on him because something about this felt _familiar_.

He narrowly missed the fighter, and they began spiralling towards Pijal, fire spreading through the back of the ship. Obi-Wan felt his mouth go dry, but his Master was not panicking and he did not want to give into fear – so he simply gripped the control handles, preparing to try and make them land, somehow, even though he had no idea how.

“Padawan.”

Qui-Gon had placed his hands on his shoulders and was beginning to hook something onto his back. And Obi-Wan felt boundless _terror_ creep up when he realised this was a _parachute_ , and what it implied.

They were too far up – no, they were already too far down, they would…

“Shh, Padawan. Do not fret. I’ll burn a hole through the ship’s ground, and we will jump. It’s the last thing they expect. And we can make it. We are already past Pijal’s atmosphere.”

Qui-Gon hooked the second parachute around his body, and pushed several buttons, programming the computer back to autopilot. Another rocket hit them and they both stumbled to the ground, Obi-Wan’s heart racing madly, breath coming in short gasps – because the alarms were still blaring, the ship was burning and they were crashing, coming down _FAST_ …

“Shh. Little one. It’s very easy. Hole burning. Jumping. Pulling the chord. Landing. Don’t forget to wrap yourself into the Force, and to brace yourself for the impact. It works every time.”

Qui-Gon’s hand brushed his wrist, fleetingly, and Obi-Wan breathed out, shakingly. And then, mirroring his Master, he pulled out his lightsaber, blue and green blade quickly working through metal.

The air flooding the engine’s body almost sucked him out of it, and Obi-Wan had to use the Force to brace himself, fighting down panic when he realised just how close to the ground they were.

“Every time, Padawan”, Qui-Gon said, blue eyes locking with his, and then, projecting all the love and confidence he had in him, his Master _pushed_ him down the hole.

It was hot, it was fast, it was a blur of colours and sounds and pure _fear_ , but somehow Obi-Wan remembered to pull the chord of his parachute and to wrap his sweaty fingers around the strings. He was coming down so fast his lungs were burning, he could almost _see_ the pine-trees now, and he was so _scared_ he could not breathe anymore, but he still tried to call the Force deep inside him, trying to slow himself down like he would have caught a dropping object…

 _Slow, slow, slow, please, please_ … It felt like being inside, and outside his body at the same time – perhaps he already was a shadow, but he was slowing down, he was bracing himself, he was…

The impact still came, though, albeit muffled by the Force. Obi-Wan had closed his eyes, and he sensed it through the Force, pine needles and branches colliding with his parachute and his body.

The scent of pine and burnt rubber overwhelmed him, shadowed by pain. Obi-Wan felt himself fall, bouncing off bark, needles, and earth. And then darkness swallowed him, spreading slowly behind his eyelids like spilled ink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I did it again. I used the cliffhanger - well, rather the pine-hanger :p. Poor Obi... Just so you know, the real story actually begins *now* :). I hope you still like my Qui-Gon, I tried to write him with some of the contradictions we witnessed in the Phantom Menace - he still means well, you know, and he loves his Padawan very, very dearly. Next chapter in a week, I'll aim for Friday and try to do my best. Take care and stay safe please. Much love, Meysun.


	4. Visions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear ones! I am so sorry for this late posting - I actually missed our week-end date for the first time in months, and I apologize! Unfortunately, work is catching up... and I'm afraid that it is only going to become worse as we come closer to the end of the summer -- things are not really getting slower in the practice, and we are already beginning to resume our university obligations, so... all this to say that I left poor Obi down for quite a while. I'm not sure if I'll be able to keep our weekly dates, but I dearly hope so - strangely I'm often more productive when there's more going on, so do not despair (haha, as if you would...), I'll try my best :).
> 
> Aaaanyway. Sorry for the cliffhanger last fortnight, it was an easy writing-weapon :). And thank you all for your reviews, that are beyond precious to me -- I'll really try to answer them all very soon!! More in the ending notes, and enjoy I hope, Meysun.

_But if I had the stars of the darkest night / And the diamonds from the deepest ocean / I'd forsake them all for your sweet kiss / For that's all I'm wishing to be owning_

**Pijal.**

Thrumming. Trickling down his face. Thundering through his very being.

A storm – raging above him, and _through_ him, so fierce the Force itself seemed _askew_ , and it _hurt_. It hurt _badly_.

Obi-Wan heard himself moan, and instinctively tried to reach out through the Force to assess his surroundings, because he was unable to open his eyes and to remember what happened.

However, the second he tried to channel his thoughts and energy towards the Cosmic Force, he found himself retching with unpreceded violence, the acid smell briefly overpowering the sense of _earth_ and _pine_ and _rain_.

Each heave seamed to split his head open, yet Obi-Wan somehow managed to recover, leaning heavily on his right hand as his stomach rebelled. Something kept trickling down his cheek, through his hairline and down his neck, but he was absolutely unable to do anything but close his eyes and ride the pain out, feeling his body begin to shiver.

Something was _missing_.

 _Someone_.

“Master…?”, Obi-Wan whispered, once the retching finally relented. “S… Satine?”

He shuddered, right hand fisting into the muddy soil, feeling earth and pine needles dig into his palm.

_Pine needles._

There were no pines on Mandalore. Even less on Draboon.

Obi-Wan pitched forward, and resumed retching, because he was not on Mandalore, he was not on Coruscant, he was back on Stewjon, surely, because _pine trees_ and _hurt_ and _scared_ and _alone_ …

He had not been alone on Stewjon, though – and that thought made him frown as he coughed his way through his fading nausea. Frowning seemed to aggravate the slow trickle that kept bothering him, and in the end, Obi-Wan just reached out with the one hand he seemed able to move, until he found solid bark and was able to lean against what could only be a trunk, shivering with exhaustion and pain.

He had yet to open his eyes, and quickly realised he _couldn’t_. Opening his eyes seemed just as impossible as staying awake, right now, not with the Force and the world storming around him and his head feeling like broken clay…

His fingers curled around what seemed to be a root, where he could feel the faintest Force-brush, and then Obi-Wan sank back into the heavy, stormy darkness that was raging around him.

He woke up because of _rain_ that was definitely trickling down his face, causing him to cough lightly, pain erupting in his head and chest – yet it wasn’t as bad as before, and he managed to open his eyes, blinking at the sky.

It was dark, and for the briefest moment Obi-Wan wondered if he had opened his eyes at all, but then he saw a ray of moonlight, and realised a few stars were flickering through the storm clouds.

His hand was still curled around the pine’s root, and another one was digging against his lower back, gentle Force thrums coursing through his body – Obi-Wan realised he must have been lucky enough to encounter a Force-node, because he felt a bit less battered now. Almost able to think.

_What had happened to him? And where was Qui-Gon?_

Obi-Wan’s right hand moved towards his belt and he let out a heavy sigh when he felt the comforting weight of his lightsaber. Fine. At least he was not unarmed – and he could not remember fighting against someone. Not in a duel, at least…

His hand moved towards his brow – because his head _hurt_. Badly.

Something sticky met his fingertips and they came away stained – Obi-Wan realised then that his tunic was in tatters, mottled with dark spots that could only be blood. It wasn’t _too_ much, though, and Obi-Wan took a few deep breaths, trying to channel the gentle Force-current he could feel under his hand and beneath his back towards himself.

 _A concussion. That’s why it’s so hard to_ think _. I need to assess my body, though. I need to get up._

He could feel himself tremble, but he was _good_ with the Cosmic Force. He had always been. He loved trees, and flowers, and every plant – even Valentine, because Valentine was… Valentine was just like Satine. She bit and bickered and hurt – but she had soothed his fever when he was weak and helpless, she had made him survive and deep down, Obi knew she _loved_ him.

 _Focus_.

With an effort, Obi-Wan pulled his thoughts from the slow spiral they had begun to draw and tried to come back to the tree and the Force and the rain above him.

_You are the roots below me. The shade and shelter above me. The nurturing rain falling down on me. The earth cradling me. I am grateful for You. I feel You around me. Please take me back into Your current, please make it flow through me as well. I love You. I need You. I abandon myself into Your arms._

_I am one with the Force and the Force is with me._

His words were just a whisper, barely heard between the rain and thunder – but their stream never wavered, until the rain relented, turning into faint drizzle as the wind rose.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes, finally feeling like they were realigned with his vision once more. The pain was still pounding against his skull, but he was able to think and to release its nauseating waves into the Force.

The night was dark around him now, but his eyes quickly adjusted to the shadows, and they helped with his head – Obi-Wan was soon able to assess his body, still leaning against the trunk.

His lower left ribs were cracked, and one of them at least was broken, but they did not shift under his hands. Likewise, his left wrist was fractured, and his elbow probably sprained, but the bones seemed in place – he just had to use his _obi_ as a sling and he would be fine. His back was bruised, but he could move it, and he must have managed to protect his stomach and gut, because there was no injury and no tenderness there. There were deep cuts on his legs, but no serious wound, and his hips and knees seemed uninjured. His left ankle however felt swollen and painful, but his boot was acting as a brace and in the end Obi-Wan decided against taking it off. It would probably make the swelling worse, and he needed to _move_.

Something heavy tumbled down the branches above him, and Obi-Wan instantly fell back into a defensive Soresu stance, lightsaber bright and burning beneath his cheek.

It was nothing but a heavy, rubbery mass of _something_ looking like a broken, deflated parachute, and Obi coughed, lightly, switching off his weapon, leaning against the trunk once more.

_Soresu, really?_

“Shut it, Quin”, Obi-Wan muttered. “I need to _think_.”

It was hard, though, with legs suddenly feeling like rubber and sweat breaking out as his head began to spin. Obi-Wan let himself sink back on the ground with a sigh and closed his eyes once more.

_Master, where are you? I need you… I don’t… I don’t feel so good…_

He was trembling, now, because that parachute reminded him of something horrible, of terror and fire and falling down, down, down, way too fast and way too close to the trees… Someone… Someone had shot at them, and they had… they had jumped, because Obi-Wan had missed the starfighter firing at them, they had jumped and now… now he was unable to feel his Master through their training bond – and Qui-Gon had always answered, always, always, even when he had been captive on Draboon and when Obi-Wan and Satine had managed to storm the bounty-hunters’ lair to free him.

_Master please don’t be gone… Don’t be…_

He did not want to think the word, though, and tried to still his quivers, like Qui-Gon would have wanted, because his Master was wary of Fear and its deceiving ways.

 _Focus. Try to_ think _._

His head hurt, but his bond was… his bond did not feel broken or rooted out. It was just mute – _silent_ , and the silence was frightening, making him cold and so lonely and helpless he felt almost like a youngling. But he was no youngling anymore, and if Qui-Gon’s side of the bond was mute, then only three possibilities remained.

His Master was either dead – and Obi-Wan would not believe that until he held Qui-Gon’s body against him and until he had tried every possible Force-node to revive him – or he was unconscious. And if he was neither, then it meant something was blocking Qui-Gon’s projections in the Force. Then it meant someone was holding his Master captive.

And this, combined with the welcoming they had just received, made most sense, and the fact that Obi-Wan was lingering there like a broken string-puppet dangerous and _stupid_. 

He was glad Qui-Gon had not heard him whimpering through their bond like that – his Master had enough on his plate already, with him making them both go to Pijal with his blunders and…

 _Pijal_.

That was were they were headed. Pijal, where Princess Fanry was battling Czerka Corporation, but where a rebellion had taken over. Pijal, where Master Averross had called Qui-Gon for help.

_That’s what I need to do. I need to find Master Averross – he will know where and how to search for Qui-Gon. And he’ll know who tried to bring us down._

“I need to _move_ ”, Obi-Wan whispered.

And so, finally, he pulled himself together and back on his feet. He used his lightsaber to cut through the rubbery fabric of the parachute’s remains and managed to wrap up a crude sling for his arm. The parachute was made of dark material, and as such, would not be easily spotted by a search party – Obi-Wan simply folded it the best he could and left it near the trunk.

He placed his palm against the bark, quietly thanking the tree for the shelter and bracing it had provided him, and then Obi-Wan started to walk, limping through the pines as quickly as he could, soon vanishing between the trunks.

The wind was cold now, and Obi-Wan pulled his hood down, dragging his cloak around his body. It was damp, torn and stained – quite a shameful sight, surely – but he still was grateful to shield himself, trying to remember what he had read about Pijal.

The planet was rather small, and the forest had covered a lot of ground, before Czerka had begun to fell the trees and to produce coal on Pijal itself. The remaining trees stretched on the western side of the capital, and were presumably the place where the Pijali rebels hid.

One more reason to stay careful.

Obi-Wan walked for what was likely a couple of hours, and then he realised a few numbers of things. One was that his ankle would not bear him for much longer, because it was barely able to take his weight. The second was that he needed to find shelter quickly, because the wind was picking up along with his shivers. And finally, that the forest unfortunately did not seem to end, pine trees stretching before him like an ocean.

“Spheres…”, Obi-Wan whispered, wiping at his brow that was still oozing blood sluggishly.

The Pijali had been one of the most ancient civilizations who had tried to travel through space, worshipping what most planets would later call the Force. Back then however, space-travelling was even more dangerous than it seemed to be now, and the Pijali had built rounded forts used for watching over their spherical starships. Most of them were deserted now, but these places had been sacred, the Force strong within them. They had been built on high places, as close to the sky as possible – on places ideal for stargazing, and also surveying the ground.

If Obi-Wan wanted to find shelter, rest and a way to assess his surroundings, the best thing was to find one of these forts. He just had to channel his strength and focus on the Force’s currents – he just had to follow the thread where the Force was strongest…

Obi-Wan forced himself to straighten, cradling his broken arm against him. The wind pushed back his hood and he did not try to pull it back on, closing his eyes, breathing in deeply, trying to assess the Force beneath his feet and around him.

_Shelter, you seek._

“I do…”

_Weary, you are._

“I am…”

_See clearly, you wish?_

“I… I trust in You.”

Obi’s voice was hoarse – he did not really know why he was answering aloud, especially to that Voice that sounded a lot like Master Yoda in his head, he just _knew_ it was the right thing to do. And when his feet started to move, almost of their own volition, Obi-Wan just stumbled along, eyes barely open, in a state not unlike the sleepwalking that had marked his childhood.

_I am one with the Force and the Force is with me._

He came back to himself when his foot caught a stone, making him stumble as pain erupted in his ankle. By then, Obi was too weak to keep his balance, and fell hard on his knees, stretching out his hand to protect his left wrist. His palm met dust and hard stone, and the impact rang through his skull, causing his eyes to close tightly and his stomach to rebel once more – but Obi-Wan had nothing left to retch up, and was soon able to recover, gazing up at the ruins rising before him.

He had found them. Now he just had to climb.

The Force was strong, pulsing around him and in the ruins, Obi could feel it – it thrummed through his chest, and so he decided to be bold, and ask a bit more of the Force.

_Around me._

His quiet plead was not unanswered, and the Force wrapped itself around his back, pushing him up, and steadying him as he rose and walked once more, straight up to the fort.

He found white ruins raising around a circular stone floor, made of high walls where the arrowslits of the past were still visible. Obi-Wan slowly limped towards one of them and peered through the narrow stone-opening, assessing the view below him. And then, tiredly, he smiled, resting his brow against the stone.

The Pijal capital city was rising a few miles ahead, on the east, where dawn would soon break. He just had to wait for the night to end, and walk towards the sunrise.

“Drop your weapon, rise your arms and turn around _slowly_.”

 _My head is mush._ I _am mush._

Obi-Wan allowed himself a few seconds to taste the full viciousness of his thoughts – cursing the crash, the concussion and above all _himself_ – and then he forced himself to release them into the Force, letting out a slow, deep, breath, before turning around.

He raised his right arm, leaning against the wall because he did not trust his ankle, facing a dozen of dark, hooded silhouettes clustered around a thin, tall woman that seemed to be their leader.

Her face was dark, her hair as well, and she had fierce, very dark eyes. Her Force-signature burned hot and red, but Obi-Wan did not sense true evil in her – but wariness, anger, and _fight_ , that abated a tiny bit as she took him in.

“Stars, what happened to _you_ , _Jedi?_ ”, she snorted, blaster still pointed straight at his chest. “Jamal here thought he’d heard someone retch, but I confess I did not believe him. I was expecting something rather more daunting than some sick, beaten up _child_. How the mighty have fallen, I guess…

\- My apologies for not raising the other arm”, Obi-Wan quipped. “I can make it up though - and give you the finger.”

The woman stared at him for a heartbeat, and then, suddenly, unexpectedly, she let out a warm, low laugh, letting down her hood.

“Want to flip me the bird, kid? What kind of a Jedi are you? Besides a young, injured one? Sit down, before you pass out. Sit down, kid.”

One instant, Obi-Wan was staring at her, defiantly, and the other he was being leaned against the stone wall, the woman stripping him deftly of his cloak, careful not to jostle his arm, placing a cool cloth against his head.

“Stars, kid… The wound on your skull is the size of my _palm_ …

\- I’pologize didn’t mean t’be rude to you….”

The coolness felt wonderful against his skin – but it also seemed to leech out his strength, he could feel himself begin to sag, words tumbling out of his mouth unchecked.

“This needs to be closed. Like in _now_. And your wrist needs tending too. And that _ankle_ … Stars, don’t tell me you walked on _this_ , kid.”

Obi-Wan looked at his feet in dismay, that were bare now that someone had pulled of his boots. His left ankle had become quite the _sphere_ indeed, swelling to the size of a small orange through his sock.

“We were supposed to camp here anyway. Jamal here is our self-proclaimed medic. He’ll close the nick on your skull, and wrap your ankle and wrist. Then we’ll see what we do with you, in the morning.

\- I think he is concussed”, Jamal said, kneeling next to Obi-Wan, who realised looking at his blue skin that he was a Pantoran. “His pupils do not focus, and his brow feels hot. Have you been sick, kid? Do you feel like throwing up?

\- Not ’nymore.”

Obi just felt cold, and exhausted. The Force around him was quiet, and he was almost sure that none of these people would hurt him, so he allowed Jamal to test his brow and move his neck. Until the man tried to shine a light into his very eyes, causing Obi to Force-project the small lamp a few feet away, dry-heaving into Jamal’s lap.

“Easy, easy, easy… Hmm, you’re definitely injured, kid. I’ll close that impressive nick on your skull, and then you’ll sleep, alright?

\- Did you… see my Master?”, Obi-Wan whispered. “He’s… tall. Much taller than I am. He’s not… going to be rude. He’s just… rude with the Council.

\- Shh, kid. At ease, lad.”

Obi felt arms around him, and then a sharp, burning on his skull, at least twelve times, like insects biting him, but he wasn’t afraid. The Force was very clear here, and it shone light green through Jamal, like a peaceful beacon – it made him smile, softly, and it made Jamal chuckle as he wrapped his ankle in blessedly _cool_ bandages, doing the same for his wrist.

“Feels good, eh, kid? It’s not Bacta, though, just plain old alcohol, but it will help with the swelling.

\- He’s _so_ out of it…”, the woman said. “He keeps smiling at you like you’re the moon or something.

\- Maybe I am, eh, little Jedi? What’s your name, anyway?

\- Obi-Wan”, Obi whispered. “Obi-Wan Kenobi.

\- Well, Obi-Wan Kenobi, I’ll make you lie down, alright? You can rest your head on my lap. It doesn’t leak anymore.”

Jamal had the same wrinkles as Madame Nu, around his eyes, and it made Obi-Wan feel even more safe.

“Someone… someone shot our ship”, Obi whispered. “It wasn’t you, was it? You feel good in the Force. All green.

\- All green, eh? No, little one. We did not shoot at you. The only ones we tried to bring down were those kriffheads from Czerka Corporation. 

\- And that Fanry bitch. I’m going to bring her down myself”, the dark-haired woman spat out, and Obi-Wan had a start, feeling Jamal’s hand card through his hair, soothingly.

“Shh… We are _rebels_ , not murderers. We fight against slavery. We do not kill, because every Pijali deserves it all.

\- Not every Pijali, Jamal. That horrid bitch played us all. She doesn’t give a damn for slavery, all she wants is the power.

\- Is it… true? She did not… free the slaves?”

Obi-Wan turned his face towards her, with an effort, because his body was heavy and because sleep was tugging hard at his mind.

“Oh no. And I can tell you about it. I was with her, on the _Leverage_. And if I, and some of the _Righteous_ ’ crew, Jamal here included, had not rebelled, those slaves would have exploded and become space-fodder.

\- You know… Princess Fanry. Do you… do you know Master – Master Averross as well? I need… I need to find him. Is this fort far… away from him?”

She stayed silent, for a while, gazing inwards.

“This is no fort, kid. It is a Celestial Watchtower. A sacred place, where ancient Pijali used to look out for those brave enough to set out. We have fallen very low. Myself included. But no more.”

Obi-Wan’s hand spread on the floor, palm meeting the rough stone. A Watchtower. He remembered it now. He had read about them.

“The Force is… very powerful here.”

He had begun to shiver, slightly, and the woman covered him with his tattered cloak, gently placing his injured arm above it.

“Can you feel it, kid?”

Obi-Wan nodded – at least, tried to, aborting the move with a wince.

“Yes. It is… going to help me recover. I’ll be… stronger tomorrow. I promise. Thank you for… helping me.

\- Well, you’re a Jedi, are you not? You’re supposed to bear witness of what you see. And the fact that Fanry distrusts you is enough to make me want to help you, I can assure you.

\- You… feel strongly about her.”

Lying down helped channelling his thoughts, and Obi-Wan felt, somehow, that the woman was inclined to talk. So he talked back, quietly, feeling Jamal’s hand card through his hair, testing his training bond every once in a while, but always finding it mute.

_Hang on, Master. I will find you, I promise. There’s light everywhere here, despite the darkness._

“Oh yes, I do. I grew up with her.”

 _That_ made Obi-Wan frown, and the woman smile bitterly.

“I am five years older, but I still grew up with her. I was her servant, you see, but Fanry always called me her _sister_. And that’s why I trusted her. When she said it was time to rise, I believed her. When she told me that Pijal was corrupt, just like the Republic was, because Czerka controlled it all, included the Senate and the Jedi Council, and that it was time to refuse their dominion and rebel, I believed her. I let her stab the Skykeeper, during her coronation, in an act of defiance. I did not move to help that poor man, unlike Master Averross, I do not even know if he survived. And when she ran, towards the _Righteous_ , claiming it was time to destroy Czerka and its ships, I cheered. Only when I saw what she was determined _not_ to do, did I see clearly. And now, Obi-Wan Kenobi, I rebel. I rebel against Czerka, against my queen and her guards. Because I will no longer be a slave. I’ll never be a slave anymore.”

Her burning gaze never left his, features like dark, unmoving stones. And Obi-Wan shivered, once more, but he did not lower his eyes and moved his hand, palm facing the sky.

“No one should be a slave”, he whispered. “Least of all to power or slogans. I am sorry for what you went through.”

She did not move, for several seconds. And then, hesitantly, Obi-Wan felt her fingers clasp his.

“Do you think… do you think that Force of yours could forgive me, for standing by while one of its servants was stabbed? The Skykeeper… he’s a sacred man.”

Obi-Wan closed his fingers around hers.

“It is not _my_ Force. And there is no sacred man or woman in the Force, because we are _all_ sacred. But what… what my teachers and Masters told me is… that if you truly regret your deeds, then you are already treading the path of forgiveness. Because it means you are already better than the person you were committing those. The hardest thing… the hardest thing is to forgive oneself, and live on – but the Force rejoices in seeing us grow. Always.”

Obi-Wan could feel it thrum, quietly, under his prone body, making him shiver under his damp cloak. The woman stayed silent, for a long time, and then she placed Obi’s hand on his chest, folding his fingers softly.

“You are a young Jedi, Obi-Wan Kenobi. But you definitely have a way with words. Don’t lose that. And try to sleep, now. You need rest.”

Obi let out a long, quiet sigh and closed his eyes.

“You didn’t tell me”, he whispered, realizing he was unable to name her. “I know your Force-signature, but not your name…

\- Oh is that so? And what am I, pitch black?”

Her voice was teasing, but with his eyes closed, it was so easy to read her pain.

“You are bright red. Like fire. Like life”, he whispered. “Like a… volcano.

\- Funny, then, that my name is Cady. Because it only means _hillock_.”

Her voice was soft, but as she spoke her name, _something_ thrummed through Obi-Wan’s very core, causing his eyes to flow open and his whole body to tremble. He looked at her, at her dark face and dark eyes and found it strange to see her also dressed in black and white – like a body mingling with its shadow-body, like woman melting into man.

_I’m ready, General._

That rough voice meant _safety_ and _backup_ and _friendship_ and the fierce ache of fighting for _equal rights_ , but Obi was no General, he was a Jedi and just a Padawan and that male voice did not make sense, nor did the fierce mixture of _care_ and _fear_ and _hope_ and _loss_ because that man, that man…

“Cody?”, Obi-Wan whispered, feeling tears rise up in his eyes, causing the stars to blur and fade into the images rising before his eyes.

“Hey, kid… Kiddo… Don’t weep, not now…

\- Cody… Cody, don’t shoot me, don’t do this, don’t lose yourself like that…

\- Who’s Cody, kid? No one is going to shoot you, I promise… My name is Cady, Obi-Wan… _Cady_. Like a hillock. Like that Watchtower. _Cady_ , little Jedi.

\- Cady…”, Obi-Wan whispered, feeling the Force surf back, like a wave, leaving him drained, struggling to remember the very images that had caused his tears to rise. “Cady Hillock.

\- That’s a nice nickname, kid. Makes her sound softer than she is”, Jamal rumbled, quietly. “Now sleep. Let that fever go down, little one.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes once more, obediently, and soon drifted off to sleep – but his dreams were troubled and feverish, the Force whispering on and on through his very mind.

_Cody. Cody… No number. A name. Watch out for the Number, protect the Name…_

_No slave. No Skykeeper – but very close. Watch out for the Sky in the Slave…_

“Cady, he’s burning up. He needs proper treatment.

\- Don’t you have any fever-reducers left?

\- I do, but… I’m not sure it’s the best idea, with his concussion…

\- As you said, Jamal. He’s burning up, you don’t want him to fry his brain, do you? That kid jumped from a burning plane, if we got it right… And did you see what he did with your lamp? He’s tough, Jamal. He’s going to pull through.

\- Fine, Cady. But tomorrow, we will have to bring him to the city and Master Averross.

\- I think that’s where he is headed anyway.

\- There, kid. Drink.”

The words around Obi-Wan barely made sense, but he obediently swallowed the water, allowing Jamal to slide a pill between his lips. He let himself be held into the Pantoran’s arms, sitting up – and the Force calmed its raging through his body as soon as his back left the ground.

Obi sighed, burying his face into Jamal’s shoulder, and slept on, without any dreams or visions this time, his fever and the ache in his head ebbing as the drug kicked in.

The sun was rising and Obi-Wan drenched in sweat when he woke up, still tucked up in Jamal’s arms.

“How do you feel, kid?”, the man asked, quietly, and Obi-Wan assessed his body through the Force, finding that he felt still weak, but that his wounds had begun to heal, the concussion especially.

“Better”, he whispered.

“You were quite sick, tonight. Drink some water. It will make you feel even better. Hungry?

\- Not really”, Obi sighed, but he still accepted the dried bread Jamal handed him, because his body needed _something_ , not just the Force.

Once more, he probed his bond, and once more, he was met with silence.

But as the sun rose and the men around Jamal and Cady began to stir, Obi-Wan promised the Force that he would try to find Qui-Gon, and help Pijal finding peace once more.

Now, however, he needed to find Master Averross. And finally meet this Princess Fanry surrounded by so much hatred and distrust.

Obi-Wan leant back against the ramparts, and watched the sun throw its bright-red rays through the arrowslits, drawing starshaped lines on the Watchtower’s stone floor.

_Hang on, Master. I will find you, I promise._

And under Obi-Wan’s feet, quietly, the Force thrummed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, no Qui-Gon here yet, because he's the one who's missing, not our dear Obi... I wanted to write the Apprentice rescuing the Master, for once!! I have many ideas for him, but you know me now, nothing is set in stone yet, so... no spoilers :). This chapter was perhaps more of a 'pause' but believe me, it's needed for the world-building on Pijal. Jamal belongs to me, but Cady is in the original story --- and *of course* I had to notice just how similar her name was to our dear Cody, and use it for foreshadowing and angst... Now, for those wondering why Obi is so "open/emotional", these are actually side-effects of severe concussions, as is throwing up and sometimes fever, that is why I tried to write him less shielded and also waay mor confused... Poor Obi. He's a bit better now, though, and of course, he's making friends :).
> 
> I wonder what you think about Cady... and also, if you don't want to throttle me yet for still *not* writing Fanry and Rael Averross : they are turning up in the next chapter, I promise!!! Thank you for reading, and... rest assured, the next chapter is going to be written as soon as possible. I'll post on Sunday, though -- unless the Force should truly be with me. In the meantime, I hope you are all well, I send you a warm hug and much love! Take care, Meysun.


	5. Revenge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear ones, I am so sorry for the delay... The end of August and beginning of September coincide with much more activity in my practice - and so much to correct and prepare for university, because French medics have the weirdest schedules, always ending a year in October (*facepalms*). I spent a ridiculous amount of time behind my computer, none of it in Obi and Qui-Gon's company, and very much resented it - because I missed writing for you terribly.  
> I hope you are all well, that you are safe and that work or your studies have resumed - probably with a lot of restrictions and adjustments, but we can see it as dealing with it very Jedi-like, and keep positive :).  
> This chapter has a first part that is can be somewhat "hard" in the sense that it is rougher than I usually write, but I think you'll manage to see the brighter side of it nonetheless. The second one was very interesting to write, because it was as usual very unexpected :). No more babbling now, enjoy I hope and please take care, Meysun.

_But I might be gone a long old time / And it's only that I'm asking / Is there something I can send you to remember me by? / To make your time more easy-passing_

**Pijal, location unknown.**

Something was _missing_ , in his head and in the world around him.

Something was missing.

Qui-Gon felt _severed_ , and for the first time in years, he felt Fear and was unable to release it, body fighting helplessly against the bounds restraining him, eyes blinking against the darkness surrounding him.

“My, my, how the mighty have fallen…”

The voice was velvety yet laced with poison, and Qui-Gon strained uselessly against his bonds, trying to make out who was talking to him, where he was and especially _where his Padawan was_. He could not feel Obi-Wan through their bond, actually he could not feel anything at all besides the aches in his body, the way the steely bonds cut against his wrists and his growing Fear, because what was missing was _the Force_.

The Force and his Padawan, his boy, his life, his joy.

“How does it feel?”, the voice asked, almost gently, and this time Qui-Gon managed to make out a thin, dark silhouette facing him in the shadows of what could only be a prison.

“How does it feel to be reduced to a simple, unsensitive human, Master Qui-Gon Jinn? How does it feel without that _beloved_ Force of yours, how do you fare, my dear _friend_?”

She – because it was a _she_ – let out a soft laugh and took a step towards him, but her face was still in the shadows. Qui-Gon took a deep breath – and he could only exhale, there was no Force to take his Fear and his dizziness away, there were just shadows and his body, and he was on his own.

“Where is Obi-Wan?”, he rasped, realizing only then how thirsty he was. “What did you do to my Padawan?”

The woman laughed, and finally, languidly, she flipped a switch and a meagre flicker sprang from a naked lightbulb, revealing a lovely face with dark lips and blood-red, wavy hair framing it like petals.

“Do you recognise me, dearest? Last time we met, you broke my wrist and I scratched you.”

Her thin, almost delicate hand moved towards Qui-Gon’s face and he soon felt cold fingers stroking his cheekbone, searching for his beard.

“ _That_ hand”, she whispered. “I confess it kind of turned me _on_ , but you never were one to play, were you, Qui-Gon? Neither was that stiff prick you used to call a Master, was he now? I’ll tell you something, dearest…”

She was close now, close enough for Qui-Gon to inhale her flowery scent, and he – he could not move. His body seemed to be made of stone, it certainly felt as heavy and cold – but he soon felt her, felt her feet as she deliberately stepped on his boots, placing her hand on his right shoulder.

And then she yanked on him hard enough to draw blood from his wrists, and her fingers dug deep into his cheek until her lips pressed against his, until Qui-Gon was forced to endure her kiss even as he squirmed, drawing blood from his useless hands, feeling her teeth sink in his lips and his own body shudder in pain and disgust.

“Roses – do not – wither.”

She moved to kiss his neck and Qui-Gon shuddered again.

“What did you do to Obi-Wan?”, he rasped, trying to ignore the way her lips felt against his body, invading what was _his_ , making his skin crawl with revulsion.

“Oh, such _neglect_ … And I thought you Jedi were gentlemen…”

She finally let go of his face, her hand moved to his other shoulder instead and soon he felt her hands trace his chest, unlacing his obi, parting the hems of his outer tunic.

“Hmm, what did I do to your little Padawan, Master Jinn? You should know that Rose Cimber doesn’t _do_ things. No, I simply let things happen the way they suit me. Your bratty Padawan – a rather skinny one, and those freckles, tss…”

She hissed softly against Qui-Gon, hand curling around his hip, and he suddenly felt sick, because the way she was talking, to imagine her around Obi-Wan, like a cat playing with a mouse…

“He missed his jump. Broke like the little string-puppet you tried to make of him. He’s _dead_ , Qui-Gon Jinn. _Baby_ -Wan is _gone_. Check the Force, if you want, you won’t feel him. Oh, but I forget, dearest… You _can’t_.”

The surge cursing through him would have astonished even Qui-Gon, but he was past feeling, past noticing anything but the horror of her words – it couldn’t be true, he could still feel the soft, fragile skin of Obi-Wan’s neck against his palm, could still breathe that unique smell of cleanliness and tea-leaves, still see the boy’s clear eyes as he gazed up at him, still hear his soft voice as he teased, apologized, talked…

“Where – is – my - Padawan?”, Qui-Gon let out, and somehow he managed to yank his right hand free, not caring for the blood suddenly spilling warm and red against his skin, aiming for her throat.

She caught his hand with ease and a slight wrinkle of her nose, and promptly plunged something in his neck, stepping down from his boots.

“You were ever a brute, Qui-Gon Jinn. I expected no less from you. I should do as you did, leave you there with an injured wrist, but I have _orders_ from Czerka. And so I will tell you what is going to happen to you, Master Jedi. I will wait for that drug to take full effect, and then I will tighten this collar around your neck, so that you will feel the air get a bit tighter and think about your naughtiness. And then I’ll gently wrap up your wrist, because I do not want you to bleed to death here. After all, I’m not finished with you, am I…?”

He was fading fast, shock, pain and what could only be a strong anaesthetic cursing through him – there was no Force to call upon, nothing but loss and darkness and…

“Did he… Is he…”

_Oh, Obi-Wan. Dear one. Padawan. My boy, my boy, my boy…_

He heard a soft, very mournful sound – only a small gasp. And it took him minutes to realise it came from his chest, because his head felt so heavy, suddenly, as heavy as his heart because – because…

He felt hands around his throat, and something clicked open, before closing around his neck once more, digging painfully into his skin. And Qui-Gon let out another small sound, and closed his eyes, feeling the burn of tears for the first time in years.

He paid almost no attention to the woman’s gestures, he let her do what she wanted with his body, which was not much. He did not care.

Because, in that small second where what had to be a Force-inhibiting collar had fallen open, the Force had surged through him. And Qui-Gon had felt it, then. The light and warmth of Obi-Wan – of his unique, precious, wonderful Padawan, shining and quivering through their bond like the robin he was.

 _Alive_.

His Padawan was alive.

So he let Rose Cimber think that these were tears of despair. That Qui-Gon Jinn was nothing but a weak, broken shell, numbed by drugs, despair, blood-loss and pain. He made sure to let his tears flow, before darkness would take him, because he could not release them in the Force.

But, even as the clouds invaded his mind, making it impossible to think, Qui-Gon made sure to remember that he was not mourning, that he was not shedding tears for Obi-Wan.

His companions in the darkness would not be grief and anguish, but relief and hope.

Relief and hope, because Rose Cimber was a liar and Obi-Wan alive.

***

“Will you manage?”

The sun was throwing bright rays between the pine leaves and Cady was watching Obi-Wan arranging his robe around him, so that his sling could be hidden – and there was warmth along with teasing in her words.

“Not to offend you, but you look a _mess_.”

He had no doubt about it. Rain had poured down on him the past night, but his robe still bore dry copper marks that could not be mistaken for anything but blood, and he would rather not see what his face looked like right now. Still – his head was not as painful, his arm was mending, and he had managed to wrap the Force around his ankle, hopefully speeding up its recovery.

At least, he was not limping anymore.

“I’ll manage, Cady. It is not far, and Master Averross is a Jedi.

\- Aye, that he is, kid”, Jamal replied, helping Obi-Wan with fastening his sling.

He then proceeded to take a closer look at his skull, and Obi-Wan let him, because he could feel Jamal’s concern in the Force – and because the Force was _good_ around him.

_Safety. Trust. Soothing._

“Still. I put twelve surgical staples in that stubborn head of yours. They will need to get off, kid, but only in ten days. No rubbing. No scrubbing. Not for another rotation.”

Obi-Wan winced, because he itched to get rid of the dried blood and sweat, of the dirt and dust. But he nodded, minutely, and Jamal placed a hand on his shoulder.

“There’s no fever anymore. You still need to take things _slowly_ , though. I don’t know how things are in the city, or in the palace. But no doubt you will find medics there. I’d strongly advise you to go to them.

\- Jamal, that’s not what we came here for.”

 _And my Master is_ _missing_.

His bond was still completely mute, and it made Obi-Wan feel cold, naked, and exposed. But there was no need to voice that, and he was a senior Padawan – almost. He would bear it, and find Qui-Gon, and that was the end of it.

“What will you tell them? At the Palace?”

Cady’s voice was sharp. Almost cold. And Obi-Wan turned towards her, fighting the urge to rub his itching skull.

“I… won’t tell them anything. Not until they ask. I won’t tell them anything that could harm you. I will try to find out what _they_ want. And bear in mind what _you_ do.

\- And what do we want, Obi-Wan Kenobi?”, Cady asked, dark face proud and unreadable under her hood.

“A Pijal without slavery. Where all citizens are considered equal.

\- We want Czerka off our lands. And Princess Fanry as well.”

Cady’s voice was ruthless, and Obi-Wan gazed up at her, projecting all the calm and understanding he had towards her.

“I do not know if that is achievable, Cady. I think we will all have to let go of something, to bring back balance. Yet what remains to be seen…

\- Well, you know how to reach us, now. We won’t stop, Obi-Wan. We are quite determined. Fanry steps down, and Czerka leaves. Or Pijal will go on burning.”

She shone so _crimson_ in the Force. So bright and scorching. Obi-Wan bowed, lightly, and then he smiled at Jamal.

“Thank you. For everything. Please be careful. Please think… think twice before… before anything. May the Force be with you.

\- And with you, little one.”

They both soon vanished between the trees once more. But as they turned, Obi-Wan noticed the way Jamal placed his hand on the small of Cady’s back. Lightly. So very lovingly. 

_Satine had stiffened, slightly. And then she had kept talking, smoothly and so very composedly, almost ignoring his hand, but never shaking it away. He had removed it, in the end. And that was when she had reached out, lacing their fingers together._

Obi-Wan blinked, pressing his injured arm tighter against his chest. And then he turned, too, towards the city, towards Master Averross and Princess Fanry – because he needed to find his Master.

He only had a mile to walk, and as he headed towards the capital, Obi-Wan tried to reorganize his thoughts, that had become somewhat jumbled, into objective facts.

They had crashed because someone had shot at them. Meaning that someone was aware of their coming. Given that Master Averross had called for help and that the Jedi Council had made no secrecy of their mission, that _someone_ could be anybody – ranging from Pijali rebels to Czerka Corporation. Master Averross had seemed to imply that Princess Fanry herself was less than happy with them arriving on Pijal. What was worrying Obi-Wan though was the motive of keeping Qui-Gon captive, or worse…

He took a deep breath and released into the Force, arm pressing against his injured ribs.

_Master Qui-Gon is alive. The Force would tell me if he was not. Focus._

“Fear. Revenge. Leverage”, Obi-Wan muttered as he walked, feeling the softness of damp pine-needles under his booths.

Czerka and Fanry both had motives to fear a Jedi investigation, as it could lead to question their legitimacy and power. There was also a fair possibility of revenge, especially from the Pykes – whom Master Qui-Gon and Master Dooku had helped to undermine and almost neutralize about five years ago.

Feemor, Master Qui-Gon’s former Padawan, had paid the price with his life, and Obi-Wan knew it was a subject Qui-Gon was reluctant to brooch – it had led him to distance himself from Dooku for good, and still unsettled him deeply.

His Master was a formidable warrior and had many missions under his belt – retaliation from an entirely different source was also a possibility. But Obi-Wan had felt something _familiar_ in the cruiser attacking them – and had the distinct impression that Pijal, Czerka, the Pykes and Qui-Gon were all connected. His Master was wilful, sometimes hasty, but Qui-Gon was also kind, open-minded and deeply concerned with helping others – his reluctance with going to Pijal had surprised and unsettled Obi-Wan, but perhaps his Master had indeed sensed _something_ threatening them.

Qui-Gon’s likes and dislikes ran strong, and his Master tended to rely heavily on the way he read people, while Obi-Wan tried to search for the hidden motives behind their actions, and for the way they affected the Force around them. Sometimes their visions collided, but Qui-Gon was rarely wrong in assessing people – often Obi-Wan’s softer, more idealistic views tended to place him in vulnerable, even dangerous situations. His Master had often told him he tended to trust people too much, and believe too much in what they could achieve, rather than read them with the limits and faults they had.

Yet it was Qui-Gon who loved and rejoiced in people, whom people loved and relied upon, while Obi-Wan was…

 _“Stop trying to_ excuse _them!”, Satine had cried out, as they were discussing Mandalore and the more violent currents threatening its stability._

_“I don’t want to hear that there were traditions, I don’t want to hear their point of view, I want you to understand mine, is this so hard to ask?_

_\- Satine, I just meant…_

_\- I know what you meant! You think it_ beneath _you to fail to analyse everybody’s perspective, because that would not be the Jedi way, would it now? The truth is, Obi-Wan, you try so hard to understand everybody that in the end, you don’t understand anyone, and you strive so much to find out what the most balanced action would be that you don’t take any at all!”_

 _That_ had made him turn from her and go, avoiding her company for the rest of the day. It had been incredibly hard to keep the swirling, unsettling thoughts in his brain from Qui-Gon, while maintaining a calm, level-headed demeanour. In the end, Obi-Wan had been forced to meditate for long hours, releasing his feelings along with silent tears in the Force.

She had apologized, in the end – because Satine was like fire, burning, sometimes scorching, but always trying to warm, and to protect. She was also reflective, and kind-hearted – she had simply handed him some water, and left him alone, waiting for him to be ready to come back.

He had shied away from deeper discussions for some time, after that. He had let Qui-Gon brooch the topics of their conversations, preferring to listen. He was the one making sure their rations kept, that there were enough logs for the fire, that their commlinks were still working – it was not _fulfilling_ , but it was necessary, and it didn’t require any commenting.

His Master had picked up on Obi’s silence, though. Instead of making him talk, however, Qui-Gon had made sure to devote some time of their days into resuming Obi’s training, whenever it was possible. Silence and withdrawal were no options then, and Qui-Gon had been warm and praising, allowing some of Obi’s feelings of inadequacy and failure to surf back into the Force.

Qui-Gon had always, _always_ known him better than himself, and Obi-Wan felt his heart clench, hard – because the silence in his bond was almost unbearable. He tried to release his anguish into the Force, though, sending love and reassurance towards his Master – and breathed out, slowly.

“I will find you, Master. I promise.”

He walked faster, thoughts racing in his mind. He needed to find Master Averross, but what he had to assert, first of all, was how Master Averross stood towards Princess Fanry – because it remained unclear.

From what Obi-Wan had gathered, Princess Fanry had used her coronation ceremony as an affirmation of her rebellion. She had stabbed the Skykeeper, taking even Master Averross by surprise, and then she had raised her Blackguards and followers, and stormed Czerka’s spaceship.

Obi-Wan had watched the hologram recording Master Averross and Qui-Gon’s conversation carefully, and he had felt distress, hurt and also a deep sense of loss radiating from his Master’s brother-in-lineage.

Qui-Gon however had met this with dislike and wariness, seeing it as a failure to keep level-headed – because Master Averross was still speaking warmly of Princess Fanry.

From what Jamal and Cady had told him, Fanry was still on speaking terms with Master Averross. Meaning that finding him would result into finding her.

“So be it, then”, Obi-Wan muttered, finally leaving the forest, watching the capital city stretch out before him.

The city walls reached high, and Obi-Wan could see several control posts, barring the way of the arches leading into the city. He could also see men in black uniform patrolling on the city walls, heavily armed with blasters. The Force was fading slowly around him, becoming dimmer as he left the forest behind, and Obi-Wan could soon smell dust, smoke, along with an overwhelming feeling of _tension_ that awoke his headache.

Czerka’s mines and factories were outside the city, and from what he was assessing, Fanry still had control over the capital through her Blackguards. What remained to be seen, though, was how far her control reached over the Pijali themselves.

Obi-Wan scratched his head, absent-mindedly, fingertips ghosting over the surgical staples – they really felt like small rails stretching over his skull. He probably looked appalling, but there was no way to make it better. 

He quietly walked out of the trees, making sure to keep his steps slow and as less-threatening as possible, heading towards the nearest arch. It didn’t prevent the two sentinels of staring wide-eyed at him, and of pointing their blasters at him – Obi-Wan barely supressed a sigh.

“Good morning, and my sincerest apologies for the state I am in. My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi, I am Master Qui-Gon Jinn’s Jedi Padawan, and Master Rael Averross is expecting me.”

The sentinels just stared at him, staying mute for a few seconds, then one of them blinked, and repeated:

“Master Averross is expecting you? Who did you say you are? What are you carrying under that cloak?”

Obi-Wan let out a tired breath, but forced himself to remain calm.

“Jedi Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi. I carry nothing. My arm is injured. Our plane was attacked, and my Master and I were forced to crash.

\- What’s that thing around your waist? Some kind of blaster?

\- It is my lightsaber. I do not mean to use it, though. Master Averross is expecting me.”

He was tired, suddenly, headache pulling at his temples and arm throbbing against his chest. The soldiers were antsy, and their nervousness grated at Obi-Wan’s shields, making him realise just how strung out he was.

Force be thanked, one of them finally pulled out his commlink, and after long minutes of criss-crossed conversations, much staring, and no lowering of blasters, Obi-Wan was finally escorted into the city.

It was quiet and empty, broken items littering the streets, doors closed and soldiers patrolling everywhere. Obi-Wan could sense fear, alarm and wariness in every corner, and by the time he reached the palace, he was pale-faced and forced to let out deep breaths into the Force, trying to release those unshielded feelings flowing through him.

He was told to wait, his escort still surveying him warily, but Obi-Wan soon heard quick steps approaching, and was finally met with Qui-Gon’s brother-in-lineage.

Master Averross was surprisingly shorter than Qui-Gon, but he felt just as alive, almost _overwhelming_ in the Force, dark hair combed in short spikes above a tanned face, black eyes darting as he took Obi-Wan in.

He was strong in the Force, and his appearance was surprisingly tidy – his lightsaber clipped neatly at his belt, and his robe and tunics clean and fitting. He was a handsome man, features chiselled yet firm – and for a short moment Obi-Wan allowed himself to feel _relief_ , ready to fall back to his role of a Padawan as he bowed.

That sense of respite was short-lived, however, because Master Averross’ gaze searched beyond Obi-Wan and fell back on him with unconcealed surprise and alarm.

“Where is Qui-Gon?”

Obi-Wan swallowed – realising only then he had still harboured a childish, completely _unrealistic_ hope of finding his Master at the palace.

“We were attacked, Master Averross… Our plane was shot. Master Qui-Gon and I were forced to jump. We got separated, and I have been unable to locate him in the Force ever since.”

Master Averross’ eyes widened, and then he frowned at Obi-Wan.

“What? Uh… who did you say you were…?”

Alarm, confusion, and disappointment flooded the Force around him and Obi-Wan realised, quite shocked, that Master Averross wasn’t really bothering to shield, feelings radiating straight towards him.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, Master. Second Padawan of Master Qui-Gon Jinn”, he answered, softly, fortifying his own shields, determined to prevent his emotions from adding to the whirlwind he could feel around Averross.

“Oh. And… don’t you Padawans have a bond with your Masters? How come you cannot sense him? How come you left his side – when I was a Padawan, first rule was to stick to my Master, not to save my own skin…”

 _That_ hurt, and Obi-Wan blinked.

“I… We had to jump. We got separated. I do not feel Master Qui-Gon in the Force, but I know he is not dead. I assume he has been taken captive, and I was hoping you could help me find him.

\- And how am I supposed to find him when even you can’t _sense_ him?”

Master Averross let out an annoyed huff, exasperation, frustration and worry evident, and whipping. But then, surprisingly, his eyes softened, and his frown cleared.

“Oh. Kid. Jee-, I forgot. You can actually sense _me_ , can you?”

Obi-Wan peered up at him, and Master Averross raked a hand through his hair.

“Well of course you can, you’re a Padawan. Jee- I got quite used to feeling somehow… alone in the Force, I guess, let me just…”

He let out a small, joyless huff, and then Obi-Wan felt something being _called back_ , Force still thrumming but blessedly _silent_ between them.

“I bet it feels better, doesn’t it?”

Master Averross’ smile was not happy either, but there was something oddly hopeful in the way his eyes searched for Obi-Wan – it was quite sad, actually.

“Yes, Master”, Obi-Wan murmured. “I apologize for being so late, and for bringing so little news. We discussed the situation on Pijal abundantly with my Master, though, and I promise you can count on my help and abilities, however limited they might be.”

Master Averross’ eyebrows shot up, and he opened his mouth, clicked it shut, then opened it again.

“Jee, kid, are you always so _formal_? How _old_ are you?

\- Almost seventeen, Master.

\- Well, you need to _loosen up_ ”, the Jedi Master muttered, placing a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder and pulling him towards the palace. “You’ll get old soon enough, no need to sound like Windu straight away. Or that _bore_ of… what is he called again? Kadi Mundo… No, Ki-Adi _something_ …”

Obi resisted the urge to squirm away, instead he tried to keep up with Master Averross’ quick strides while gazing around him, eyes meeting only closed rooms and black-clad guards.

He almost barrelled into Master Averross when the Jedi pulled to a quick stop, turning to Obi-Wan once more.

“What in the _Galaxy_ happened to your head? And your – your arm, and… What on earth happened to _you_ , kid? Is that _blood_ on your robe?!”

_No, it’s Bantha poodoo._

The sarcastic thought broke through Obi-Wan’s shields and he stiffened, horrified at himself. But Master Averross burst out laughing, not caring for the bewildered looks the Blackguards were giving them, and apparently unaffected by Obi-Wan’s rebuke.

“Oh, I knew there was a _kid_ underneath that ragged, serious Padawan. Good one, kid, good one…

\- I was… I collided with a pine tree, Master”, Obi-Wan answered, cheeks still hot with shame.

He need not have worried, because Master Averross’ laughter only increased.

“You _what_? And who won, you or the tree?”

This time, Obi-Wan did not answer, and Master Averross slowly calmed himself, becoming serious once more.

“Well, you can’t see Fanry in that state. She’d be outraged, and we don’t want that. You’re about my size, even though you’re skinny. I have some spare robes and tunics, they’ll have to do. Lamia can help you clean up. I’ll try to contact the Jedi Council meanwhile.”

 _This_ made Obi-Wan peer up, and become bold enough to ask:

“I could stay with you, and…

\- No, no, no, kid. You clean up. I’ll deal with them. How on earth am I supposed to manage this situation with Qui-Gon missing and only a banged-up Padawan to help me along?”

He was pushing Obi-Wan along, and soon made him enter a broad room where a lot of people were either sitting or lying down - it looked like a suite turned into some kind of medical and camping base.

“Lady Lamia? I need you to take care of that young one here, find him clean robes, something fit enough to appear before Princess Fanry. I’ll be back in a jiffy, I trust in your abilities.”

Master Averross was soon gone, like a whirlwind, leaving Obi-Wan seething, staring at twenty Pijali eyeing him warily, exasperation, worry and frustration threatening for a while to overwhelm him.

“Be welcomed, young Jedi. My name is Lamia, I am Princess Fanry’s cousin, and I thank you for coming here.”

The voice was soft, very sad, and belonged to a beautiful, dark-haired and round-faced woman. Obi-Wan instantly felt himself deflate and bowed, politely, sending goodwill and compassion through the Force.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, at your service.”

She smiled at him, kindly – it did not reach her eyes, but it was genuine, and she did not touch or patronize him. She just led him towards a less crowded area, and soon fetched him clean clothes and a basin of water, along with a washing cloth.

“There. It is not much, but…

\- It is perfect. Thank you.”

She smiled at him again, and withdrew, silently, leaving Obi-Wan to fuddle clumsily with his cloak and sling. He freed his injured arm, wincing when he tried to stretch his elbow, pain locking his joint, and placed his sling on the ground next to him. He unclipped his lightsaber, and removed his belt and obi, but was left struggling with his tunic, left arm refusing to cooperate.

“Allow me.”

Lady Lamia was back, and Obi-Wan gazed up at her, allowing frustration to seep into his features.

“I am _sorry_.

\- Please, do not be. We are all so relieved to see you alive.”

For some reason, _that_ made Obi-Wan’s throat tighten, making him unable to answer. Lady Lamia helped him remove his outer and inner tunic, and Obi-Wan realised only then how much blood had seeped onto his collar, fabric saturated with a thick, copper crust.

She did not comment, though, and Obi-Wan was grateful for it. He ran the wet sponge on his skin the best he could, and allowed Lady Lamia to help him with his neck and back, watching the water in the basin slowly turn to red.

“Would you fetch us another?”, Lady Lamia asked, quietly, handing the basin to a man, and then she helped Obi-Wan into clean clothes.

He was unfastening the bandage around his wrist, finding the joint still blue and swollen, and silently cleaned his hand and fingers.

“This needs Bacta”, Lady Lamia observed, quietly.

“But you do not have much”, Obi-Wan answered, gazing up at her. “It is alright. I can use the Force. It will heal in a few days.”

She did not contradict him and left him as he tended to his legs and more _private_ areas. She came back only when he had slipped into a fresh pair of pants and trousers, carrying two rolls of bandages. And Obi-Wan noticed a tiny girl, clutching the hem of her dress, half hiding behind her.

“This is Kira”, Lady Lamia voiced, handing Obi-Wan the bandages. “She is my daughter. She isn’t usually that silent.”

Obi-Wan peered up, and smiled at the child, only to see it hide even more behind Lamia’s dress.

“Thank you”, he said, quietly, proceeding to wrap up his wrist, realising quickly he was not yet able to shed the sling – his elbow simply _refused_ to stretch.

His ankle was mending, though, feeling less swollen under his fingers, but it was still blue and painful now that he had stopped bracing it through the Force. Obi-Wan bandaged it deftly, and then he left his palm against it, trying to release some of the throbbing and hurt back into the Force.

_It’s all blue._

The voice ringing through the Force was childish, and as decisive as children could be. Obi-Wan peered up and smiled at Kira.

“Yes, indeed. It is just a bruise, though. It will disappear.”

Kira frowned and hid her face back into her mother’s dress, clearly upset. But not as much as her mother, whose features were suddenly ravaged by an odd mixture of sadness and hope.

“Who… did you… did she speak to you, Master Jedi?

\- I am no Master”, Obi-Wan said, still smiling at the child. “She did not speak, she _projected_. Most people do, and sometimes we manage to read it through the Force… I am not going to read your mind, though, Kira. It’s private. It belongs to you…

\- Oh, but…” – Lamia had knelt down, cradling the child against her, and Obi-Wan was surprised and concerned to see tears shining in her eyes. “It is just… She did not speak for days, you see… Ever since…”

A quiet tear fell down her cheek and Kira burrowed even deeper into her dress, small hands moving to cover her ears.

“Can I… can I project too, Padawan Kenobi?

\- Obi-Wan, please, my lady… Call me Obi-Wan. Yes. You just need to think, and try to send your thoughts towards me.”

Overwhelming sadness instantly flooded the Force, and Obi-Wan realised only then just how much Lady Lamia was holding back.

_It had been terrible, Obi-Wan. Ever since Fanry’s coronation. Riots in the streets, and in the palace. My husband… my husband was killed when rebels stormed the palace, we don’t even know where the shot came from – we don’t know if it was a Blackguard or a rebel, he was trying to shield Kira and… He died… He died and she was just next to him… And she had already seen Fanry stab the Skykeeper… She was already so upset, and afraid, and now she is not talking, and I miss her voice, I am so afraid to never hear it again, I am afraid of her holding so much back and never getting over this… How is she supposed to get over losing her father, Obi-Wan…?_

He swallowed, hand still clutching his ankle, feeling small and powerless faced with so much pain. But then his eyes fell back on the tiny, dark-haired child, and Obi-Wan realised he had no choice but try to comfort them.

“When I was six years old, I stopped talking for a while too”, he whispered, quietly. “It was not for the same reason. I did not lose someone I loved.”

His voice cracked – because of _Owen_. Because of _Satine_. But it was not the same as Kira losing her father and grieving silently.

“Someone I was supposed to trust and look up to did something very, very scary and painful to me. He squeezed my throat very hard, pretending to teach us how to fight all along, but he did not like me, and I was scared of him. Of what he could do to me, and the way he yelled at me in front of my friends.”

Kira’s hands slowly slid down from her ears, but she did not turn towards him, still burying her face in her mother’s dress. And Obi-Wan went on, quietly, watching Lamia rub soothing circles into her daughter’s back.

“One day though he squeezed harder, and my actual Master and another teacher saw him and saved me from him. He went away, and I have not seen him since. For several days afterwards, I stopped talking. It felt like… it felt like there were no words. For the fear. For some things I could not understand. I did not even know why I didn’t talk. It just felt… right.”

Obi-Wan’s fingers stilled on his ankle.

“Now that I am older, though… I think I felt scared, and lonely, and also angry and betrayed. I felt so very small, and I had always thought that elder, bigger people would take care of the smaller ones. Sometimes though, they don’t. And sometimes they protect us, but we still lose them. Sometimes silence is our only way to protest. That’s why I think we should respect yours, Kira. You are not alone, though. You never will be.”

The child turned towards him, then, dark eyes bright with tears and cheeks flushed. She picked up the abandoned sling on the ground and hurled it at his shoulder, small chest heaving, and then she ran away, small feet drumming against the stone floor.

“Please forgive her”, Lady Lamia whispered. “She is so very confused. She has not interacted with people that much for days, though… I know she lashed out, but it is the first time she expressed _something_ …

\- There is nothing to forgive. I am sorry for her loss. And yours.”

She nodded, quietly. And Obi-Wan just sat there, taking those silent people in, rubbing his ankle, feeling exhaustion pull at him now that he was clean and resting. He fell into a light meditation, but it felt mere minutes before Master Averross was standing before him, agitated ripples flowing through the Force.

“I don’t know what your relationship with the Jedi Council is, but apparently they think _you_ are enough to assess the situation, right now.”

Obi-Wan blinked, Master Averross’ irritation like tiny darts on his shields. What he was saying was preposterous, there was no way Obi-Wan was enough…

“So I’ll tell you what is going to happen. You are going to follow me, and meet Princess Fanry. And you are going to _assess_ if there’s a clean way out of this mess, do you hear me, Padawan Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan blinked again, and then he pulled on his boots, quietly.

_Sometimes they don’t._

That thought was carefully shielded, this time. Obi-Wan sent love and reassurance through the Force towards Kira, her small, sad face enough to pull him on his feet, ready to face Princess Fanry whose actions had led to such dire consequences.

There was no use in bitterness or feelings of inadequacy, not with Master Averross so out of his depth, clearly unable and unwilling to help him find Qui-Gon – not with the Jedi Council reaffirming their mission’s goals.

What Obi-Wan needed was a plan. And as he walked towards the throne room, he devised a very simple one. First, he would meet the Princess, and get an idea of the situation in the capital. Then, he would ask to meet Czerka Corporation. And all along, he would attune himself to the Cosmic Force, searching for the slightest sign of Qui-Gon – because somehow his Master’s disappearance was a key-move on Pijal’s chessboard.

Obi-Wan pressed his injured arm against his chest, firmly. He was ready for Princess Fanry – most ready indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... and I bet you are ready as well. I am so sorry, dear ones - this chapter was so long that there is still no Fanry in it. But it had Satine (finally!) and also Kira who also belongs to me (Lamia doesn't, she's in the real story according to Wookieepedia) and who was supposed to appear in the next chapter. I guess I was still a bit shy of writing Fanry, it's much nicer and probably annoying as hell to build up to the meeting :). Master Averross though is finally there and I bet you have many feelings about him --- so sorry if I butchered him, he's probably nothing like that in the book, but I need him that way and it all has a purpose... Thank you for sticking with this story, I promise I'll come back soon with the next chapter. Much love and take care, Meysun.


	6. Resonance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear ones, here comes my next chapter, finally!! I am sorry because real life is not really getting any calmer - but I am happy. At work we try to do the best we can, and I spend a ridiculous amount of time playing Obi in my parents' garden, absolutely worshipping plants and trying to muse about Jedi and the Force while unrooting weeds :). This chapter finally has Fanry in it and I am very excited to read your thoughts about it! I hope you are all well and that you all find some time and peace in your "secret garden", when and wherever that may be. Please take care and enjoy I hope, Meysun. 

_Oh, how can, how can you ask me again? / For it only brings me sorrow / The same thing I would want today / I would want again tomorrow_

**Palace Throne Room, Pijal.**

Not once did Master Averross look back at him, long strides leading them both towards a corridor where Blackguards were posted like beads of a long, dark chain. Obi-Wan followed dutifully, staying two steps behind the Jedi Master, as befitting his Padawan rank.

In the seclusion of his mind, behind the woven barriers of his shields, however, Obi-Wan allowed his thoughts to roam unchecked – no doubt Qui-Gon would have been delighted in their viciousness, because his Master had that strange, very un-Jedi habit to positively _relish_ in seeing him seethe.

Qui-Gon used to claim that it was merely because he was enjoying a rarity, but once, his Master had told him the crucial difference – to Qui-Gon’s eyes, at least – between anger and indignation.

“Indignation is a rightful fire, Obi-Wan. And do you know why, Padawan mine? Because there is something in that spark caused by _values_. Not insecurity, not fear. But the clash of events with what one considers moral, right, and true. It has to be released, of course – but, my Padawan… Treasure your indignation, because it might well fuel something in you when all the rest is lost.”

That was why Obi-Wan was, for once, not really trying to get rid of the thoughts Master Averross inspired him. He had never expected to be treated as an equal, but as a Jedi, Master Averross was supposed to master his emotions and his frustration, and had a duty to Qui-Gon. Instead, he was treating Obi-Wan like a _child_ , preventing him from interacting with the Council, and was immature enough to give him the cold shoulder because said Council had refused him more reinforcement.

 _He doesn’t even bother to_ shield _._

That was, perhaps, what was shocking Obi-Wan the most. That, and the unpleasant feeling of tiny little darts against his own shields, like a low, permanent sting – consequence of Master Averross’ irritation.

When Qui-Gon was in a similar state, his voice turned cold and his words sharp, but he never, _ever_ , took his feelings out on Obi-Wan. His Master was easy to read and told it like he felt it – but the worst he ever did to him was _loom_. Because deep inside, Qui-Gon was pure kindness and compassion, the Force in him shining golden and warm.

And Force – Qui-Gon had been so right about his brother-in-lineage that Obi-Wan would stoop very, very low and rejoice in telling him _exactly_ why. As soon as he would find him. Because he _would_.

Obi-Wan forced himself to stand very upright, schooling features and eyes into neutrality, and was ready for Master Averross’ downpour of words once the Jedi stopped walking and condescended to acknowledge him again.

They had stopped in front of a pair of closed, arched doors, ornated with ancient Pijali symbols, and Master Averross turned towards him.

“You address Princess Fanry by ‘Your Highness’. You do not try to move towards her, you stay exactly in the circle that is allowed to you. You do not interrupt her, you do not presume to tell her what to do, in short, you listen to what she has to say, and when she asks you to, and only if she does, you may reply. Is that understood?”

Obi-Wan almost raised an eyebrow, but held himself in check and replied:

“Yes, Master Averross.

\- She can seem… harsh. But she believes in Pijal. She has reasons to behave as she did. She doesn’t deserve people trying to bring her down.”

There was sadness, longing, and something so intricated that Obi-Wan could not make it out, clouding Averross’ words – and it left him puzzled. Ere long, however, the doors opened, and Obi-Wan soon found himself standing in front of the Princess.

He bowed, and when he straightened, his eyes finally met Fanry’s – and the surprise he felt was mirrored there.

Princess Fanry had red, copper-coloured hair and eyes that matched the exact grey hue of his. She was about as tall as him, and though her chiselled features had a perfection _his_ lacked entirely, it felt like meeting a female reflection of him. And he could _sense_ , through the Force, that Fanry felt the same.

_Surprise, disgust, wonder, exhilaration._

Her feelings flashed through the Force, for the briefest of moments, but when she spoke, Fanry’s voice was cold and composed:

“Well. That is quite unexpected.”

She studied him for a few seconds and Obi-Wan let her, staying quiet and composed, waiting for her to elaborate.

“Did they choose you for your physique, thinking it might unsettle me?

\- Who, Your Highness?”, Obi-Wan asked, mildly.

“The Council that sent you.”

There was venom in Fanry’s voice and Obi-Wan felt the tiny darts still radiating from Master Averross grate at his shields, starting a mild headache.

“The Jedi Council sent us because Master Averross asked for us to come. My Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, is his brother-in-lineage. They were Apprentices under the same Master.

\- I do not need anybody from Master Averross’ _acquaintances_ to show up and tell me how to rule my people or to give any advice about the situation here. And I think that sending a Squire here, when you asked for a Knight, is _insulting_ you, Rael.”

Her features were hard with scorn, and Master Averross opened his mouth, like a stranded fish, but this time Obi-Wan beat him.

“My Master was accompanying me, Your Highness. We were attacked on our arrival here and had to jump out of our ship. The aggressor was flying a small cruiser, alone. I could not discern their features, and after the jump I was separated from my Master, who has been missing ever since.

\- And you?”, Fanry asked, grey eyes narrowing in that perfect, cold, marble face of hers.

“You were due to arrive yesterday. Your ship vanished from our radars an hour before sunset. Yet you arrived at the Palace two hours ago, with a head wound that was already stitched up before my cousin Lamia tended to you. So do not mistake me for an idiot, _Jedi Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi_ , and tell me who you met in the Pijali woods.”

Master Averross’ surprise and indignation kneaded at Obi-Wan’s temples, but Obi suppressed the urge to rub them, allowing the Force to gently brush against the pain.

_Around me. In me. With me._

“I searched for the shelter of a Celestial Watchtower”, Obi-Wan answered. “I was looking for a way to assess the way to the city. There, I met a group of people calling themselves rebels and one of them treated my wounds.

\- One good reason…”, Fanry said, moving her fingers delicately, and Obi-Wan _felt_ rather than saw every single Blackguard in the throne room straighten in silent threat. “One good reason why I shouldn’t call you a traitor right here, and send you back to that corrupted planet of yours.”

Obi-Wan looked up, asking for _patience_ , for _goodness_ , for _truth_ in the Force. And then he raised his uninjured arm and lightly touched his Padawan braid.

“The white thread in this braid stands for neutrality”, he answered, voice soft. “I am a Jedi Padawan, Your Highness. I do not take sides. I accept help when it is offered, but I am duty bound _not_ to fight for anyone, whenever I am sent somewhere to assess a conflict.”

Fanry had a cold smile at this.

“Do you here this, Rael? He is duty bound to _not take sides_. Isn’t that precisely what you did? Picking Czerka’s side, trying to force me into signing that Governance Treaty – and to think the very Jedi Council named you Lord Regent…”

She hissed gently between her teeth and this time, Obi-Wan felt distress, pain and hurt bursting forth of Master Averross’ shields.

“Your Highness, you know this is untrue. I never meant to force you into anything. I tried to… I tried to help. I tried to do right by you. _Fanry_.”

The name was said tenderly. So very brokenly. And Obi-Wan understood, then, just how shattered Master Averross was. There was no Jedi neutrality there. No calm abandon to the Force. Just the broken shields of a broken Jedi Knight, who had stood too long alone, away from his kindred and his teachings.

“And how was suggesting I surrender Pijal’s monarchy power to an Assembly that would be force to join the Galactic Republic _helping me_? Rael, you know that the Galactic Republic is ruled by Czerka Arms! And you know very well how much Czerka is implanted _here_! Suggesting this… you might as well have handed the planet directly to them, it would at least have _sounded_ honest!

\- Fanry, you know why… You know that the only way to investigate Czerka was to join the Galactic Republic and have the Senate order a proper inquiry here… You would have been Governor. You would have defended Pijal here, and on Coruscant. As you always wished it.”

Master Averross’ voice was soft. Tinged with so much sadness it made Obi-Wan’s heart ache. Or perhaps it was because the Jedi Master did not care, still, for shielding, and was flooding the Force with sorrow and regret.

“No. I never wished that. The Galactic Republic is nothing but a sham. You very well know Czerka controls it all. The only way for us to gain our true independence was to expose them on our own, and get rid of them.

\- And then what?”, Master Averross exclaimed, pain evident in his words. “You would have stormed their ship, destroyed the _Leverage_ , and then what? Didn’t you think Czerka would be asking for retribution? To _whom_ , exactly, were you planning to expose Czerka, since the Republic is a sham, and the Jedi their puppets…?

\- I was hoping you would help me”, Fanry said, not without softness, but with just the right amount of disappointment to be exquisitely cruel. “I thought that, having been more that Lord Regent, but the closest thing to a father to me, you would have fought for me.”

Master Averross stood silent, but the Force wept around him and suddenly Obi-Wan felt himself waver, a tidal wave of sadness washing over his shields, leaving him reeling.

_I tried. I tried. I tried so hard._

The feeling was not his, but it almost felt like it, and Obi-Wan blinked, feeling his headache worsen as he fought, hard, to release it into the Force.

“What is it you wish for, Your Highness?”, Obi-Wan asked, his own voice sounding foreign to him, words heavy in his mouth with the effort of trying to ride out the violent emotions shaking the Force around him.

Fanry and Averross suddenly seemed to remember he was actually there, and Obi-Wan felt _some_ of the sadness surf back, thank the Force.

“What an interesting question…”, Fanry mused, delicate fingers flowing towards her lips. “I do not recall anyone asking me that, and I thank you for your consideration, Jedi Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

Her grey eyes bore into his, and once more, Obi-Wan was taken aback by their coldness. By the ruthlessness he could read there, and had nothing to do with the warm resolve he had come to treasure in Satine’s.

“I want Pijal to stay the monarchy it has always been. I want our people to be able to retain their traditions and beliefs. I want Czerka off our lands, along with their slaves and their Governance Treaty. I want to become Queen of Pijal, as I was always supposed to be, and to rule my people’s fate without _any_ interference. Is that so much to ask?”

There was a passion, almost a plead in her words – but to Obi-Wan’s ears it sounded _fake_. Because he had spent a year with one who had also been detained from the power of ruling her people, yet Satine had never made it personal, and had never forgotten that Mandalore was part of a larger galaxy. She had fought so hard for neutrality, but she had always been aware of the fragile equilibrium peace was, and had welcome any change Mandalore had deemed necessary.

And Satine would never, ever have consented to a plan involving possible deaths, or casualties. But Obi-Wan was not facing Satine, and he was sworn not to take any sides.

“How has Czerka Corporation reacted to the assault on the _Leverage_?”, Obi-Wan asked. “And what of the slaves discovered there?”

Once more, Fanry narrowed her eyes at him.

“Did the Rebels tell you I abandoned them? Did they weave you a tale about bad Princess Fanry, who was too selfish to save the poor slaves in Czerka’s holds and left them to their fate?

\- You assume too much, Your Highness”, Obi-Wan answered. “I want your tale. Not theirs.”

Her face smoothened, slowly, and for the first time she watched him with something akin to respect.

“I did not know they were there, Padawan Kenobi. I had no idea Czerka would be so foolish to bringing slaves on Pijal in the very holds of their ship. When we stormed the _Leverage_ , we had planned to place detonators in the holds, so as to damage the ship and make it crash. The slaves were discovered in the last hold. By then, Cady and the rest of my troops had already placed the detonators. They turned to me for guidance and I said: “leave them there”. But I was not speaking of the slaves, Padawan Kenobi. I meant the detonators. Cady, however, who has proven false and power-thirsty, used it as a pretext to point out I was not caring for the slaves, and to rebel against me. And for this, she deserves death.”

_Such hatred. Such hurt. Such an unmendable rift._

“I can tell you met her, Padawan Kenobi. I always know it, when Cady has her fingers somewhere. She was my best friend. My sister. And she enticed me as she enticed you, and those Rebels she claims to lead. But she has betrayed me. And my heart is cold now.”

 _Cady. Cady Hillock_. Obi-Wan’s headache was worsening, and he had to blink a few times, resisting the urge to rub at his stitches.

“What of Czerka Corporation?”, he asked, managing to keep the weariness from his voice, and Fanry snorted.

“No doubt they have filled an outraged petition, urging the Republic to punish me for my actions. Not even the unmasking of their slaving habits unsettles them. I am sure you will find their local Chairman very eager to share his views with you. Contact him by all means, Padawan Kenobi. And remember to see him for the false snake he is. Master Averross knows him well. They devised that Treaty between them.”

She had a soft snort, oblivious to – or perhaps absolutely aware of – Master Averross’ hurt, and then she added:

“Leave me now. I have the Palace defences to discuss with my Captain, and shall receive you again once you met the Chairman. Remember, however, that I do not need your help. I shall scour the Rebels from Pijal along with Czerka, and I shall not sign any treaty I have not written myself. So much for negotiations, Jedi Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

She tilted her chin, but Obi-Wan did not move.

“I have one more request, Your Highness”, he said softly, and Fanry raised her eyebrows, prompting him to go on. “My Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, is still missing. And I am… I am very concerned.”

His injured arm pressed against his chest, in a mute gesture of modesty.

“I cannot feel him in the Force. I think someone is holding him captive. We were sent here to help Pijal – not to harm it. My Master is bound to the same rule of neutrality as myself, and any Jedi. I do not know who is keeping him hostage. But I need to find him. And I have no means to search for him.

\- My Blackguards already searched the city, and the forest. They found the debris of your ship, but not your Master. We did not pick up any signal, nor any demand. Perhaps, however, Czerka knows more. Or your Rebel friends.

\- May I… may I speak with someone who conducted the search?”

Fanry sighed, and for a brief moment her eyes softened.

“Padawan Kenobi, our search _was_ thorough. You are not the only one worrying about what a missing Jedi Master means. I expect him to be used as some kind of leverage against me. If this is a consolation to you, I think we will soon hear of him. I can send Captain Deren to you, if you wish, once we finish the meeting. He will tell you where we searched. Now leave me.”

Obi-Wan bowed, and then he left the Throne Room, feeling Master Averross follow shortly after. He let him lead the way, the pain in his ankle and head slowing him down. This time, however, the Jedi Master waited for him to catch up, and slid an arm around his shoulders, dragging him along, not caring for the way he stiffened.

“Come. I need some air. So do you.”

He led him through a corridor, then some stairs, until they entered a room that was clearly his, surprisingly tidy, and quite plain, not unlike it would have been in the Jedi Temple. Master Averross made them cross the room, then he opened the latticed windows leading to a stone balcony – and ere soon they were under the Pijali stars, gazing at the city below them.

“Sit down. You don’t want a blaster shot hitting you.”

Obi-Wan obeyed, and as he sat down, he realised the thin balcony pillars were shielding him, like a childish fortress, allowing them to see without being seen. He leant his head against the cool stone, and released a long, slow breath.

“You don’t look so good”, Master Averross said. “You’re very pale. I’m sure your head hurts. Mine always hurts, whenever I leave that kriffing Throne Room.”

Obi-Wan tried to smile at this poor attempt at humour, but he just managed a weak upturn of the lips. He was feeling exhausted beyond measure, and was fighting back shivers, cold sweat drenching his brow.

“It’s alright. Close your eyes, rest a bit. I’m back in a jiffy.”

Obi-Wan raised his knees and pressed his face against it, fighting back dizziness and nausea, cursing his concussion, the crash, the mission – before letting go, trying to concentrate only on the feeling of the rough fabric against his skin, his heartbeats and the way blood was slowly rushing back to his head.

“There.”

Something warm wrapped itself around his shoulders, and Obi-Wan felt a hand on his hair, trailing through his sweaty, bloody strands. The darts against his shields had vanished, easing the pain at his temples, and Obi-Wan soon felt a soothing warmth against his skull, radiating from Master Averross’ palm. It felt like his hand was combing the pain from his head, and Obi-Wan shuddered.

“I’m a dick sometimes. Most of the time. But I’m not too bad at Force-healing.”

The nausea was ebbing as well, thank the Force, and after a few minutes Obi-Wan felt able to raise his head and peer up at Master Averross, blinking back his exhaustion.

“Thank you, Master”, he croaked, realising he was wrapped up in a blue woollen blanket that had _no right_ to be so soft.

Just as Master Averross had _no right at all_ to be so nice, and to have hands feeling _almost_ like Master Qui-Gon’s. Not after having behaved like he did. It gave him whiplash. It made everything so hard to _understand_.

“You did well, down there”, Averross said, quietly. “And it was… it was nice of you not to comment. On the things she said. About me.

\- It is not my place”, Obi-Wan whispered.

Averross only got up, and came back with a tray sporting a steaming bowl and a jug of water.

“There. Pijali lentil soup. It’s quite good. They put some nice spices in it, and some noodles. You need to eat something. I don’t think you noticed, with that concussion and all, but you are half starved. That, and you’re kriffing skinny. Doesn’t Qui-Gon feed you, once and awhile?

\- Whenever he can”, Obi-Wan sighed, and his quip made Averross smile.

“Eat up, kid.”

Averross stayed silent the whole meal, gazing silently at the stars and the city below him. Obi-Wan was hungry indeed, and felt _much_ better once his bowl was finished and his thirst quenched. That was when he realised that Master Averross’ shields were tighter, somehow. Almost as if he had fortified them, while he ate.

“I forget, you see. That you can sense it all.”

The Jedi Master’s voice was quiet, his gaze still fixed on the houses below.

“It has been years. I had forgotten what it felt like. To share the Force. I have become so used to… people not having shields, projecting all over the place… It feels incredible to _sense_ you, and yet – _not_ sense you. You’re the first one in years I can share the Force with, and who’s actually _shielding_.

\- It must have been…”

_Difficult. Horrible. So very lonely._

Obi-Wan projected the words, quietly, and he felt Master Averross shudder slightly, getting used to the sensation once more.

“All of that, kid. And then you get used to it. I’m sorry, though. I think I caused you quite a lot of pain, down there. I didn’t mean to.”

It felt strange, almost wrong, to have a Jedi Master apologizing so frankly to him. It made him feel as if their roles were reversed – yet Obi-Wan only felt compassion, and forgiveness.

“What do you think of her?”, Averross asked, quietly, and though his sadness was shielded, this time, it still hung around him, in the Force.

Obi-Wan pondered his question for a minute.

_A child on a wooden horse catching fire, who doesn’t know how to jump down._

Averross huffed quietly, turning towards Obi-Wan, sitting down cross-legged in front of him.

“You’re a rare one, kid… There’s some truth in it, though. I didn’t see it coming. Her stabbing the Skykeeper – poor old soul - and getting on her high horse, storming the skies and that ship. The Treaty drove her close to…”

_Madness._

The word hovered between them but remained unspoken. Besides, Obi-Wan had sensed something calculating and very much aware in Princess Fanry’s words, and actions, that did not ring of madness. Rather of revenge, of perceived righteousness, and of utter lack of judgement.

But perhaps these were just other forms of madness.

“She lost her parents so very young. And she has always been raised believing she would be Queen one day. Since she was a child, it was her favourite topic of conversation. She used to spend _ages_ telling me all about it.”

There was longing, and sadness in Averross’ words.

“I know what you’ll say, kid. That a Jedi isn’t supposed to feel like a father, to love someone like his own child, and you’ll be right. I tried not to. But I still spent ten years with her. Watched her grow. Watched the beautiful little girl turn into that fine, icy woman you saw. And I cannot help thinking that somehow I… somehow I failed it all. I… I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

Obi-Wan just gazed at him, kindly, knees still raised up, huddled in the soft, blue blanket.

“You’re just a kid. Of course you don’t think about such things, children and so on… It’s forbidden anyway.

\- But what is a Padawan, if not a surrogate child for his Master?”, Obi-Wan asked, softly. “It may not be through shared blood. But through the bond we share in the Force, are we Padawans not something akin to children to our Masters? And them, the closest to a father or a mother we will ever have? Isn’t it understandable to care deeply for someone placed under your protection for so long?”

_I certainly stumbled on that block as well. I still care. Force, I still care._

Master Averross’ eyes turned even sadder.

“I don’t know. Master Dooku wasn’t like that – he certainly would not have made my mistakes with Fanry. He’d have kept professional. Distant. Just as cold as she is now. I’m not blind, though. I’m not blind enough to not admit that I have been blinded. See what I mean?”

Obi-Wan was becoming used to the way Master Averross’ thoughts were unfolding, only to entwine themselves again, and he nodded, quietly.

“You love your Master very much, don’t you?”, Averross asked, gently. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell.”

He was smiling, once more. And after a while, Obi-Wan nodded, again.

“I think… I think I found a way to locate him”, Obi said softly. “But I would need… I would need to contact my friend Quin at the Temple.

\- I have a commlink. And a holoprojector”, Averross answered. “What do you have in mind, kid?”

The night was advanced already when Obi-Wan had it all ready before him: the holoprojector, Master Averross’ data-pad, and his lightsaber. Obi-Wan calculated that it was early evening still on Coruscant, and then he did something he had never done on a mission before.

He called his friends.

“ _Luminara Unduli, at your service, may I ask who you are?_ ”

Nara’s calm, cool voice echoed through Master Averross’ commlink, and Obi-Wan felt his chest tighten for a bit, because Force, he _missed_ her.

“Nara, it’s me. Obi. I’m calling you from Master Averross’ frequency.

\- _Obi! How are you? How is your mission? Is… are you alright?_ ”

There was so much warmth, and concern. It made him feel so _loved_ , and for the briefest moment, Obi felt almost guilty, because Master Averross had been so alone, and still was.

“I’m fine, Nara, don’t worry, but I need your help. Master Qui-Gon is missing, and I… I need you to find Quin, please. And… help him, maybe… if… if it’s not too much trouble, of course.

\- _Obi, do not say such nonsense. Of course I will help you. I have saved your frequency. Let me find him and we will call you back._

\- Nara, can you holo-call me back? Quin will need to see… I can dictate you the frequency.”

Ere long, Nara hung up, and for long minutes, everything was silent on the balcony. Then Master Averross gently nudged Obi-Wan’s knee.

“Obi, eh? That’s a nice little nickname, kid. Does your friend look as charming as she sounds? Temple life is definitely something…

\- Luminara is my friend”, Obi-Wan answered, _very_ patiently, and Averross had a quiet laughter that was soon hushed, as the holoprojector blinked to life.

“What the kriff is going on, Obi? Are you alright?”

And suddenly they were all there. Nara, Kit and Quin, three tiny holo-figures squeezed together, gazing at Obi-Wan with concern, interest, and fierce protectiveness. In that exact order.

“Are these – are these _stitches_ on your head? What the _kriff_ happened to you Obi and how the Force does that add up with you being _fine_?!

\- Shh, Quin, not so loud”, Nara shushed, and Kit smiled at Obi.

“Don’t pay attention to him. Ever since Nara told him you actually _called_ for help, he’s freaking out…

\- I’m _not_! Kriff, Obi, you _never_ call, so what…

\- I’ll tell you, I promise, just, Quin…”, Obi-Wan had raised his hand, extending it towards the holo-figures, and his friend paused mid-sentence, calming down slightly. “You’ll have to let me speak, okay?”

He could feel Averross smile, next to him, but the Jedi Master did not comment, watching the four friends interact with interest, and a kind of nostalgic fondness he did not care to shield.

“So… how exactly am I supposed to help?”, Quin asked, quietly. “You want me to ask Master Tholme to come and help you?

\- No, Quin… I don’t think we have the time. I… was thinking you could read my crystal. The way it shines and project in the Force. Because… because it is linked to Qui-Gon’s. There’s something in my crystal that might be calling to his, like a transmitter to an emitter, you see?

\- But… that’s unheard of, isn’t it?”

Quin sounded doubtful, but his eyes had taken that serious, deep look of absolute _focus_ Obi-Wan knew so well.

“I’m not sure. You remember how hard it was to get data about Ilum? Also, crystals are pretty intimate, that’s why I think the Council prefers using Force-signature locations… Do you think you can do it, Quin?

\- Yeah. I… I can do it. Just… you’re _sure_ , Obi? I… It might be quite the same as… you know… looking at your training bond.”

Quin looked oddly nervous, and sheepish. And it made Obi feel even more loved, and treasured.

“I trust you, Quin. Thank you.

\- I’ll… I’ll read your crystal through the holo-net. It won’t be as… as intrusive as holding it. Nara will code my reading into a location signal. And Kit will help us search Pijal numerically for a matching signal. Let’s hope your Master didn’t lose his lightsaber under some kriffing pine-tree.

\- I _like_ this one”, Master Averross told Obi-Wan, winking at Quin.

Obi-Wan soon closed his eyes, and opened his lightsaber through the Force, pulling the pieces gently apart, until he reached his crystal. He picked it up – and as usual, it felt like a piece of his very heart, and soul, and mind, enclosed in blue kyber.

His hand met Quinlan’s smaller, holo-fingers, and they both closed their eyes in the Force. Until Obi felt _something_ brush his crystal, transcending space, distance and gravity.

_I’m there. I’ll start reading now, Obi._

It felt more intimate than… perhaps _anything_ he had done before, and Obi shuddered, feeling Quin’s gentle Force-brushes against his crystal, touching his very core. There was reverence, respect and such devotion in his friend’s touch – absolute silence around them, just the stars, the sky, and that tiny, resilient link of _care_ stretching between them.

_It is done. You can open your eyes, Obi._

Quin’s voice was rough in the Force, but there was something very gentle in his gaze as it met Obi’s. And Obi realised there were small tears drying on his cheeks, mirroring the unshed ones in Quin’s eyes.

“Thank you”, Obi-Wan whispered. “Thank you, Quin.

\- We’ll contact you as soon as we get anything. Meanwhile…

\- Meanwhile take care, Obi”, Kit said, as steadfast and gentle as ever.

“I will start coding right away”, Nara assured him.

“Get some sleep, Obi”, Quin said, very softly. “We have got you. And, by the way, if this turns out – we _totally_ ask the Council to make us Senior Padawans.

\- Definitely”, Obi-Wan whispered, smiling at his friends.

He watched their small figures vanish into nothingness, but they still felt all there, with him, in the Force, wrapped around him like a second blanket. Master Averross had unfolded a spare mattress on the ground, next to his bed, and as Obi-Wan finally lay down and closed his eyes, the elder Jedi whispered:

“You are lucky in your friends, kid. Don’t lose them.

\- I won’t”, Obi-Wan whispered, quietly, like the promise it was.

They would meet the Chairman of Czerka Corporation the next day. And hopefully find Qui-Gon before said day was out – that was another promise.

Obi-Wan fell asleep wrapped into promises and Force-signatures, and an impossibly soft, blue woollen blanket that had _every right_ to be there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear ones... I'm so proud of that idea with the kyber crystal, that is (I think) my own, although it's probable it has been used and I was simply unaware of it. It reminded me of my physic classes about ultrasounds and MRI somehow, that's why Resonance is a little wink as a chapter title. Yeah I know, I am crazy :).
> 
> You probably noticed I didn't manage to keep Rael Averross as unfeeling as he was... it was all planned, though, but I know I'm soft. I also didn't want to write Qui-Gon (yet) because let's face it, he's just still hanging around (in every sense of the word) with Rose Cimber for now. I'm obviously super curious about how you find Fanry, and Rael here... And of course, you are right: I couldn't keep from writing the Green Squad back :). They are such a joy to write!!! I hope you enjoyed. Please take care and stay safe, much love, Meysun.


	7. Forgery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear ones, it has been so, so long... I am so sorry. And first of all, I so dearly hope you, your families and friends are well out there. These are strange and difficult times, and we really need to work hard and grit out teeth like Jedi to get through these months - please know that, though I have been silent for very long weeks, I have never stopped thinking of you. Life has simply been too full, and I could not find enough calm to sit down and write this chapter, that has proven to be really, really difficult to flesh out. I hope it's worth the wait - as usual, see you below! Meysun.

_Oh, I got a letter on a lonesome day / It was from her ship a-sailing / Saying I don't know when I'll be coming back again / It depends on how I'm a-feeling_

**Pijal, outside Czerka Corporation’s facility.**

The drizzle was drenching Obi-Wan’s hair, dampening the fingers of his left hand. He had wanted to discard his sling for his meeting with Czerka’s chairman, but his elbow was still unable to stretch. Master Averross had managed to mend his ankle though, and his concussion was mostly healed.

Obi-Wan was feeling much better after a night of unbroken sleep, and had washed his hair thoroughly, scrubbing blood from his skull yet minding the surgical staples.

“Alley cat…”, Master Averross had teased – and unfortunately, he had been right. Obi-Wan had finally been able to assess himself in front of a mirror – and had promptly tried to cover the impressive bruise and scar on his skull with his too-short strands, cursing the Padawan cut under his breath.

They had not heard from the Temple yet, and Master Averross had arranged a meeting with Czerka Corporation’s chairman early in the morning. So here there were, getting thoroughly drenched by sprinkle that was rain in everything but name.

Obi-Wan curled his injured fingers against his chest, fighting a deep sense of unease he was unable to release fully into the Force. He had spoken to Princess Fanry’s Captain, Deren – and the man had assured him that forest and city had been thoroughly searched. They had met in the room where Obi-Wan had been tended to by Lady Lamia, and Deren had been friendly, pulling still-silent Kira on his lap for the whole conversation, playing with the child’s locks. He had evidently been a friend of her father’s, and Obi-Wan had sensed worry, loss, and a deep sense of duty radiating from him.

Kira had refused to let go of him, clinging stubbornly to his neck and the man had sighed, dark eyes tired and sad.

“This conflict is hard upon our children”, Deren had said. “They yearn to play outside, to feel safe again. May it end swiftly.”

He had finally managed to free himself from Kira’s arms, entrusting her to her mother, who had tried to coax her into getting her hair combed. The child, however, kept shaking her head, silently throwing a tantrum.

 _Don’t want to – not you – don’t want this – leave me ‘lone – your braids_ never _hold anyway._

Kira had been projecting all over the place and Obi-Wan had been unable to suppress a smile.

“Do you want me to braid your hair, tooka-doll? I am sure it will hold. Look at my braid. It is not coming loose, is it?”

He had always enjoyed helping Master Ti with the younglings, in the Temple, even after becoming a Padawan. The many layers of Jedi clothing were difficult to handle and he still remembered Master Ti helping him with his obi. Most of the younglings enjoyed those grooming moments, helping them to assess the Force through their bodies, and often ended up talking about their thoughts, joys and fears.

The thought had made his smile linger, and he had almost missed the inquisitive, childish voice projecting in the Force.

_What’s a tooka-doll?_

“Oh. A tooka-doll? It is a soft, star-shaped little doll many children like to play with.”

_Do they look like you?_

“No. Not really. But I have a friend at the Temple – he thinks they do. He thinks I’m as small and soft as them. But I disagree.”

Kira had looked at him, dark eyes inscrutable, small brow knitted in thought. And then the little girl had snatched the comb from her mother’s hand and handed it to Obi-Wan. She had stopped projecting, but she had allowed him to approach her and to start parting her hair.

She had stayed absolutely still as he had braided her locks, mindful of his injured hand, starting from her temples to weave them into a larger tress, and Obi-Wan had felt a strange sense of serenity permeating the Force – a rare moment of peace.

And once he had finished, Kira had remained seated on his lap, small hands drawing out the shape of his knee through the fabric of his trousers – with light, rhythmic movements, joining him in the calm he was projecting. 

The little girl had been in that half-dazed state children seemed to achieve when thoroughly relaxing, but suddenly Obi-Wan had felt _terror_ grip Kira’s Force-signature. She turned, abruptly throwing her arms around his neck, pressing her face into his collar, stone-still with fear.

And Obi-Wan had looked up, and met Princess Fanry’s steely, grey gaze.

She had entered the room, preceding Master Averross, and Kira was desperately trying to make herself even smaller against Obi-Wan.

_Peace, little one. No one will hurt you. You are safe._

He had placed his arm around the tiny child, spreading his fingers across her back like a shield, and then he had bowed his head respectfully.

“Rael tells me you are to meet the chairman in an hour. Was your discussion with Deren satisfactory?”

She had been so cold. So fierce. She reminded him of the ravines on Ilum, of the high, frozen slopes in the crystal cave – unforgiving and piercing.

“Yes, your Highness. I am grateful for your efforts.”

_She has a big, big knife._

Kira’s knees had been digging into his hips and Obi-Wan had projected a wave of comfort and reassurance, wrapping them around the child.

_Shh, Kira. She cannot hurt you._

“You seemed to have found quite a friend”, Fanry had said, voice low but without a trace of softness.

“Indeed”, Obi-Wan had answered, quietly, and the Princess had faced him silently for a while, her pale, regal face unfathomable.

“Where are you from, Padawan Kenobi? You are no Core child, are you?”

_Satine’s shoulder, brushing against his as they sat quietly, in the cave, waiting for Qui-Gon to return. The feeling of her light locks against his neck. And her pointed voiced as she tried to guess, half-teasing but genuinely interested._

_“Not Onderon. You’re too light-skinned.”_

_He had just shaken his head, heart skipping a beat because she had entwined her fingers with his._

_“Try farther.”_

She had not guessed, in the end, despite Qui-Gon being away for ages. That day, she had kissed him for the very first time, and Obi had _projected_ the answer in Satine’s mind, as a mark of trust and devotion, when their lips had finally parted, arms wrapped around her slim frame, fighting back shivers of awe.

“I am Stewjoni, your Highness. But I hardly remember my home-planet.”

Fanry had studied him a while longer, and Obi-Wan had kept very still, shielding Kira through the Force, trying to ease the fear he could still feel pulsing through the child’s core.

“You could be Pijali. Memories can so easily be forged”, Fanry finally said, voice very low, and Obi-Wan felt his cheeks colour slightly at what she implied.

“The Jedi Temple is quite thorough with our medical and personal history”, he replied. “Master Che, who runs the Halls of Healing, makes sure to keep every Initiate’s file as accurate as possible. I am afraid there is no secrecy to be found in mine.

\- Stewjon it is, then. I confess I amused myself with the idea of a secret twin-brother, for a little while. Since you Jedi are so apt at understanding, though, I am sure you shall forgive me that little self-indulgence and forget my words.

\- Most certainly, your Highness”, Obi-Wan answered, carefully releasing his upset confusion into the Force, fingers splayed against Kira’s back.

“And I shall take my leave, if your Highness permits it, for I have a pretty little girl to return to her mother’s care, and a meeting to attend to.”

Fanry had tilted her head in a gracious, but cold move of acceptance, and Obi-Wan had stood up, shielding Kira with his body as he walked towards Lady Lamia.

_Stay with your mother, now, sweetheart, and wait until I come back – I promise you will be safe._

He had made sure to walk as slowly as possible, sending quiet tendrils of calm towards the child, and gradually, he had felt the small limbs loosen.

“Don’t go out.”

The whisper had been so low Obi-Wan had almost mistaken it for a projection, but for the small exhale against his neck. Kira’s dark eyes had been wide, and she had clamped her lips back shut, almost defying him. But Obi-Wan had reached out, placing a stray lock back behind her ear, and had smiled at her – just as he had always smiled at nervous little Initiates in the crèche.

_I am not afraid, Kira._

The child had gazed at him – and he had watched the look in her eyes morph from fear to something so close to _adoration_ he had almost dropped her. Kira had not said a word, had simply climbed from his arms into Lady Lamia’s. But the child’s utter _trust_ had stayed wrapped around Obi-Wan’s heart.

Just as Fanry’s coldness still twisted his gut, making him shiver in the rain.

“Ah, my dear Jedi… Allow me to wish you a warm welcome despite the dreary weather.”

Czerka’s Chairman was – for lack of a better word – the perfect _product_ of Core-worlds’ most ruthless business and marketing branches. Money permeated his expensive, carefully casual-tailored clothes, his short, trendy haircut and even the well-groomed stubble. His Force-signature was steely, and his shields quite strong for a non-sensitive, but Obi-Wan could still sense an active, smart and calculating mind. What was completely missing, though, was any trace of genuine _feeling_ , reminding him oddly of those perfectly built Coruscanti skyscrapers made of iron and glass.

“Come in, please, come in. What can I get you. Caff? Cinnamon juice? Perhaps something a tad stronger?

\- Caff”, Master Averross answered, warmly, with a wink that made the chairman’s artificial smile even broader.

“And for the young man here, Padawan Kenobi, if my memory recalls?

\- Nothing, Chairman Cutlace, thank you.

\- Always the reasonable one”, Master Averross sighed, dramatically, electing a soft, perfectly ungenuine laugh from Cutlace – the hand the elder Jedi placed on Obi-Wan’s shoulder was warm though, steering him expertly into the building, following the chairman’s step.

They soon found themselves seated in exquisite leather-and-steel chairs, facing Cutlace’s desk – the chairman affably placing a cup of deliciously smelling caff in front of Master Averross, taking one for himself, and insisting on pouring a glass of lemon-sprinkled water for Obi-Wan.

“So, Master Averross, Padawan Kenobi, tell me how I can be useful to you. I can assure you that _none_ of the troubles here can be traced on our behalf. Czerka Corporation has been on-planet for over two decades now and has always tried to embody efficiency and care. You are welcome to visit the mines and the facilities and to consult several of our data – our workers are fairly treated, punctually paid and generally satisfied, as our semestrial studies will readily show you.

\- Is the facility still running?”, Obi-Wan asked, quickly scanning his glass through the Force, and taking a sip of water.

It was refreshing, refined and indecently _expensive_ – Obi-Wan was reminded of the purified rainwater in Cadi and Jamal’s canteens, and suddenly longed for the sky and stars and _Qui-Gon_ so badly he had to place the glass back on the desk.

“At a minimal level, I am afraid. Our workers are afraid to come, naturally, after the recent riots and that incomprehensible, utterly _unjustified_ attack on our supply ship. Those working right now are lodging at the facility.

\- Pijali workers?”, Obi-Wan asked.

“Barely, Padawan Kenobi. A lot of our workers are not planet-born – Czerka always searches to diversify our employee’s career paths, and we frequently promote short contracts that allow our workers to stay for nine-months, maximally a year, before we allow them to be send to another facility where their competence and experience will be valued.”

_Thus, preventing them from forging ties, keeping control upon their lives and aspirations, and removing the troublemakers should they but stir._

Obi-Wan had no illusion whatsoever as to the fate of those ‘not planet-born workers’, but he carefully kept his thoughts for himself. Instead, he schooled his features into his most innocent expression, even allowing his eyes to widen slightly, like the coddled Core-child Cutlace imagined him to be.

“What happened to the people in the _Leverage_ ’s holds?

\- Poor souls”, Cutlace exhaled in a perfectly executed show of concern. “The ship was stormed by Princess Fanry and her crew – do not ask me why, I cannot begin to fathom her reasons. These twenty people were perfectly legally employed workers – I can only assume the ship’s captain _assigned_ them to the holds when the attack began. The poor man lost his life, you see – blaster bullet in the head, along with the whole crew, quite dreadful… Their poor _families_ …”

Cutlace had a small shudder.

“The Princess’ crew rebelled, however – attacked their own leader, if I got it right, and these twenty workers are now missing. Probably dead, or prisoners in the Pijali woods. I shudder to think of their fate, Padawan Kenobi. I can only hope the Palace comes back to sense and allows us to build a truce – and to conduct a thorough search party. In my opinion, someone has carefully misled Princess Fanry into thinking we were shipping _slaves_ on planet – a ludicrous idea! – and has set her mind against us. Czerka Corporation has always had rather cordial relations with the Palace and would gladly resume them. As you do surely know, Padawan Kenobi, our company has _funds_ , and would readily employ them into whatever means needed to achieve peace.”

Obi-Wan forced himself to take another sip of water, the delicate lemon-flavour just as heady as the string of falsehoods leaving Cutlace’s lips. It would have made Qui-Gon snort quietly in disgust, and Satine bolt in righteous fury.

What Obi-Wan was truly feeling, though, was _contempt_.

For here stood a man who believed everything could be bought and twisted with credits, and who was at peace with it. Here stood a man that was so imbibed with market-rules, auction-figures that he _had_ , and _would_ step over corpses without a real shudder. Here stood a man that had no excuse of ignorance, hunger or lack of education for his deeds – but who was ambitious enough to proudly embody them, not caring to lose himself along that bloody path.

_I pity you, Chairman Cutlace. I truly pity you._

“You would drop the charges against the Palace, Chairman Cutlace?”, Obi-Wan asked, voice soft, face still carefully schooled.

Cutlace opened his arms and smiled.

“My dear boy, I have been convinced from the very beginning that it was all a dreadful and terrible mistake. I want you to convey to the Palace that all options remain completely open. We want peace, Padawan Kenobi. Peace and prosperity for Pijal. We will gladly help Princess Fanry to get rid of those rebels spreading falsehoods, should she want our help. As Master Averross will tell you, we were strongly advocating the Assembly treaty that would have allowed Pijal to step into the Republic, and the relationship between Pijal and Czerka to be reinforced under the Senate’s careful eyes.

\- Most strongly indeed”, Master Averross threw in – he was still donning his mantle of quiet amusement, but through the Force, Obi-Wan felt his sarcasm and distrust _very_ clearly.

_That lovely fellow here almost got off when he presented me with the first draft of that kriffing treaty._

Obi-Wan almost choked, and had to take another sip of water, trying not to cough, and failing miserably.

“Wrong pipe, eh?”, Master Averross said, thumping Obi on the back and laughing quietly – this time his amusement was genuine, and Obi-Wan quietly decided that he would never, _ever_ , be flustered by a bawdy joke or rude expression anymore.

If needed, he would listen to every single one Quin knew – he would read up whatever material was needed, if it was even possible to find such data in a place as _pristine_ as the Temple.

_I am not going to be sweet and innocent anymore. I am going to be streetwise, witty, sarcastic and in control._

Obi-Wan was still quietly seething in the Force as they left the chairman’s office, and Master Averross was chuckling, sending small waves of _truce_ towards Obi-Wan, his amusement only growing as they were slammed _right back at him_.

The rest of the visit was predictably uneventful. Czerka factories were currently functioning at a minimal level and the workers were too in awe of Cutlace and two Jedi to tell them anything else that what had clearly been drilled into them. Their eyes were dull and frightened, and their projection in the Force like flickering candles, small and vulnerable. Paper thin.

They spent another hour with the Chairman, were showered with facts, statements and guarantees. And all along Obi-Wan tried to probe the Force, searching for a disturbance, a clue… because he had the distinct feeling something was _wrong_ – and yet there was nothing.

The rain had stopped when they finally left the main building. The ground was muddy and the barracks grey and forlorn looking.

“What is over there?”, he asked the Chairman.

“These are warehouses. Full of containers. Most of them are empty.

\- Might we have a look?”

Cutlace arched his eyebrows.

“I do not see what you could possibly hope to find there, Padawan Kenobi.”

_Pay attention._

The Force flashed its brief, sudden warning and Obi-Wan blinked, straightening under the heavy clouds, right hand hovering at his waist above his lightsaber.

“I think we should inspect them.

\- Padawan Kenobi, with all due respect, I…”

The soft crackle of Obi’s commlink interrupted him and, as the Force around them seemed to intensify, Obi-Wan heard Quin’s familiar voice rise from the commlink.

“Obi… It’s me. We’ve got a signal. It’s… _wait_.”

Quin stopped in confusion, but Obi-Wan already _knew_.

“It’s a few feet away from you.”

_Oh Force._

“Thank you, Quin.”

\- Obi…”

But Obi-Wan was already running towards the barracks, paying no attention whatsoever to Cutlace’s calls behind him, or the mud sloshing high on his boots. His commlink was still crackling and he shut it off, summoning his lightsaber into his right palm – and he was ready to fight as he Forced the door open, blade gleaming bright and blue above his head.

“Kid, slow down”, Master Averross voiced, behind him, but Obi-Wan knew, he _knew_ that signature, that dark, blood-red, _velvety_ presence in the Force, he should have recognised it straight away when she had fired at them, because it was her, it was _her_ …

And so, when she jumped at him like a cat, leaping from the roof of a steel container, Obi-Wan was ready.

He summoned the Force from the deepest fibres of his being, letting its current flow through his limbs, even that silly elbow that would not stretch but that _had to_ , and he parried Rose Cimber’s first row of blaster shots – their sound like thunder in the cold, seemingly abandoned warehouse.

“My goodness, aren’t you a sweet, sweet one?”, Rose Cimber purred, aiming at Obi-Wan’s chest, laughing when his blade parried her shot, lips pouting in mock concern.

“Where is my Master?”, Obi-Wan asked, chest heaving but voice calm.

He knew her file almost by heart. Ever since those terrible dreams in which she had featured, when he had been just a few weeks into his apprenticeship, forced to let Qui-Gon go alone on a mission on Hosnian Prime – where Rose Cimber and her accomplices had attempted to kill Chancellor Valorum.

He knew she was an assassin, well-schooled in poisons as well as heavy weaponry, who had sworn to make Qui-Gon pay for her capture five years ago. She had escaped a few months afterwards, and ever since they had both been wary of her – but Obi-Wan had never met her so far.

“Funny, sweetheart. Funny how you all _care_.”

She was venomous. Seemingly beautiful, but repulsive in the way her perfect body seemed to sheet only hatred and poison – and Obi was reminded of the horrible, horrible feeling of those nightmares he did not understand, of the darkness and danger he had sensed, without being able to frame them.

“And who’s that handsome one here?”

Master Averross had positioned himself at Obi-Wan’s side, igniting his lightsaber. It was blue, like his, and to his surprise, Averross slid into the graceful, yet attentive Makashi stance, body poised like a dancer.

“A delighted admirer”, Averross answered, with a small bow, and Rose Cimber let out a shrill, boisterous laugh.

And then she charged at them. She fired a round of blaster-shots at Obi-Wan, then she pulled out a vibroblade and began slicing at them. 

Obi-Wan deflected the shot, then the sharp blade aiming for his face – and then his feet moved on their own volition, and his grip on his lightsaber slid, as he switched from Ataru to Soresu, left arm perfectly stretched in the Force, despite the broken bones, hand anchored in the Cosmic Force as his right arm parried blow after blow.

Master Averross _nodded_ , through the Force, and Obi understood, taking a small step back. He went on deflecting Rose Cimber’s shots, sending them back at her, forcing her to spin and swerve, breaking her balance, until Master Averross was able to slice the vibroblade from her hand.

“And now, dear one, lower that blaster”, Averross said, pleasantly.

Rose Cimber fired straight at Obi-Wan’s chest, the shot easily deflected hitting a metallic beam with an ominous ring.

“Must you be so difficult?”, Averross sighed, winking at Obi who promptly used the Force to pull the blaster from her hand, projecting it away from them.

She was defeated, and yet she only smiled at them.

“You get me. For now. As you already understood, my employer is _wealthy_.

\- Go, kid”, Averross said, his eyes never leaving her face. “Go and find that Master of yours.”

Obi-Wan switched his lightsaber off and ran towards the furthest container, a huge metallic cubicle with a chained door. He Forced it open once more, letting the door slide – and could not repress a gasp.

“Oh, _Master_ …”

Qui-Gon was unconscious, hands chained above his head to the ceiling, knees sagging and head lolling on his chest, his long, matted hair almost touching his obi. His right wrist was wrapped and bloody, he was breathing very slowly but most of all, Obi-Wan could not feel him properly in the Force.

Obi-Wan ran towards him, cupping his Master’s pale and lifeless face, and immediately noticed the Force-collar digging into Qui-Gon’s neck.

“Hang on, Master…”, he whispered, trying to take as much of his Master’s weight as he could, placing Qui-Gon’s face against his shoulder, wrapping his uninjured arm around his waist.

He lifted his other hand and Forced the locks around Qui-Gon’s wrists open – bracing himself in the Force when Qui-Gon collapsed against him, sliding his Master gently on the ground.

He was so cold. So heavy. Were it not for the quiet breaths he could see leaving Qui-Gon’s lips, his Master almost felt like a corpse. It made Obi-Wan almost sick with worry, but there was no time to waste, and so Obi-Wan quickly discarded his robe, and outer-tunic, folding the tunic under Qui-Gon’s head, covering his Master with the cloak.

He placed a knee next to Qui-Gon’s chest, and a palm against his shoulder, gently channelling the Force towards him. And then, very slowly, he began unlocking the Force-collar, inch by inch, so as not to overwhelm his Master as the Force was returned to him.

Obi-Wan was trembling by the time the collar was finally off, and Qui-Gon’s presence fully back in the Force. His Master had trashed violently despite his efforts, and there was no way Obi would be moving his left arm any more that day, but Qui-Gon was there, Qui-Gon was alive albeit unconscious and it was all that mattered.

“Force, kid. Did you remove that collar yourself?”

Obi just nodded, hand moving towards Qui-Gon’s brow, gently carding through his strands as he probed their bond. His Master’s senses were muddled by deep exhaustion, hurt, dehydration and _something else_ that could only be a cocktail of drugs – but he was _there_.

“He needs water. And care. He’s injured. I’ll stay with him.”

Master Averross’ eyes softened as he placed a hand on Qui-Gon’s shoulder, quickly scanning him through the Force.

“She’s neutralized. Taken away to the Palace’s prison as we speak. I called for the Blackguards and for a medical team. They should arrive very soon. You shouldn’t have taken off the collar without me, look at…

\- I’ll stay with him”, Obi-Wan repeated, almost in a whisper, and Master Averross took his robe off, wrapping it around him.

“Yeah, kid. Got it. You stay with him. And I with the lot of you.”

Obi-Wan just nodded, hand still firmly fisted into Qui-Gon’s tunic, eyes never leaving his face, determined to shield and protect him – always, always.

_At your side, Master. At your side._

Obi-Wan breathed out, finally, his pattern matching Qui-Gon’s as he calmed down in the Force, finally feeling whole again as their bond awakened.

And above them all, the rain started once more, thundering down the steely roof like drums of warning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, Pijal's chessboard is *finally* laid out, and you know all the protagonists now! As said above, this chapter was very hard to write - because for me it's very difficult to write stories with a "mystery plot". I'm so, so curious about what you think - I can't tell you anything, just that it's complicated and that things are starting to get unveiled in the next chapter. I initially planned two more chapters, actually I might add a third, we'll see how it gets. Anyway, what I promise you is that it won't take a month to write the next chapter - probably just a week (I hope). One thing is sure, if we are confined for a longer time again, I'll keep writing and this time, to stay on schedule, I'll stick to not-much-plot-just-emotions-and-musings-about-characters :) :).
> 
> Oh, and one more thing : of course Chairman Cutlace is the caricature of an ultraliberal - he's not supposed to embody people working in sales/marketing/business whom I absolutely respect. Nevertheless, he embodies values that can unfortunately be found in real life and that can truly crush people, so... that was my quiet way of saying "none of that" through my Obi.
> 
> Please take care dear ones. I wish you so much light and courage for the weeks ahead - thank you for being there and making life a bit more dreamy! Much much love, till very soon, Meysun who's so glad to be back.


	8. Unravelling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear ones! And here it comes, the latest chapter of this soon-to-be-ended fic, that has really proven to be quite a behemoth to write!!! For those wondering why it seems I'm currently flooding the web with my musings - it's because I'm on holiday :). This chapter has taken a ridiculous amount of time, but it's because everything is finally revealed, leaving just the epilogue, that should be much easier to write.
> 
> For those who enjoy music, if you want to know which track inspired me, it was 'No Harm' by Editors, definitely helping a lot with the angsty bits :).
> 
> And now, without more preamble, enjoy I hope and see you below, Meysun.

_If you, my love, must think that way / I'm sure your mind is roaming / I'm sure your thoughts are not with me / But with the country where you're going_

**Pijal, Royal Palace.**

The Force was askew, and Qui-Gon was floating, drowning in a strange, heavy sea of memories, unable to push himself back to awareness.

_He was running behind his Master – or was it his former Master? He couldn’t remember, it felt strange and somewhat wrong but Qui-Gon was desperately trying to keep up with Dooku’s long strides, well knowing that his Master was not one to check he was following._

_Good. Qui-Gon did not care to be coddled. All Qui-Gon wanted was get off Coruscant, see as many planets as possible and_ find _the Force, and if it meant he was allowed to see stars above his head instead of skyscrapers, then he didn’t really care to be called ignorant or even clumsy, with his too-quickly grown limbs, because he was_ off _, he was_ free _and he was a_ Padawan _._

 _And his Master knew him for what he was, anyway, and had promised to teach him in the Force. So Qui-Gon held his tongue, and hurried along. And all the time, he rejoiced in the scent of incoming rain, of the cold wind around him, because the Force always seemed stronger_ outside _._

“Master…? Master, can you hear me?”

_Had he spoken? He had not intended to, he didn’t mean for Dooku to look back and arch his eyebrows at him, and the sky above Qui-Gon melted into stormy grey that was staring back at him, making him feel so… much… older…_

Darkness claimed him for a while, and when Qui-Gon floated back to a state that wasn’t full consciousness yet, he wasn’t a Padawan anymore, that was sure, because he _had_ one, and he was determined not to let him out of sight.

_“I do not like this, Padawan. Please, I beg you, let me do it._

_\- I’m not a Padawan anymore, Master. And what’s more, they know your face. They will suspect you instantly. While mine is a complete stranger’s. Now please, Master, stop fussing.”_

_He had loved these playful green eyes so much. That shock of very clear blond hair, the way Feemor always managed to make light of almost anything. And now Qui-Gon was muted and had to watch him go to his death, deep down in Kessel’s bowels, helpless and heartbroken._

_“Don’t go, boy, don’t go, don’t go…”_

“I’m here, Master…”

But that voice was too soft. The hair belonging to that face auburn, not light as Feemor’s, and Qui-Gon felt despair grip him, because Feemor had died on Kessel, had died because he had played bait and Qui-Gon had _let_ him…

_“I think you should get a grip. I’m not taking your Padawan from you – and I beg you to recall that I did not do so with you former one, either. No matter how eager you are to find a scapegoat. That is beneath you, Qui-Gon.”_

But it wasn’t. It wasn’t beneath him. Because Feemor had died a year into his Knighthood, at the cusp of his life, and what could Qui-Gon do but hold onto those facts, and try to take as many assignments as possible so as to make sure no young one was ever sent on such gruelling missions again? It couldn’t be wrong. If it was wrong, then the Jedi were wrong. Then the Council was erring.

“Master… The Council sent us here. And I know you were against it. But please, Master, try to be at peace… Try to rest…”

The voice sounded so tired. It sounded like Obi-Wan’s, on Draboon.

_His Padawan was so weakened. Stumbling on with shivers wracking his slender frame, unable to keep food down, drenched in sweat he couldn’t afford to lose, and it scared Qui-Gon. Because they could not stop, not with half of the Galaxy’s bounty-hunters on their heels – and Obi-Wan knew it._

_His fever was so high Qui-Gon could feel him lose his grip on his shields, and for the first time in years he sensed each of his Padawan’s feelings – the way his heart raced madly, the way every step was painful, the way he still searched for him in the Force, desperately, like a small bird looking for the sun, and the way his hand was gripping the girl’s, because his robin loved her, and because, even in the throes of illness he still remembered he had to protect her._

_“He can’t go on. Qui-Gon. Please. Look at him.”_

_The girl’s voice was frightened, and there were tears in her eyes. Obi-Wan himself seemed oddly detached, grey eyes glazed over bruise-like cheeks, swaying slightly under the unforgiving sun._

_“He’s barely there. He’s losing… he’s losing his hair.”_

_She was crying now, and his boy – his boy would be unable to stand within minutes, Qui-Gon could feel him slip in the Force, strength bleeding out of him as he stood and swayed, not a word of complaint leaving his lips._

_So Qui-Gon stepped up to him, and made him wrap his arm around his neck, lifting him under the knees and cradling him against him, like so long ago, when he had carried him to the Healers and understood that he would ask him to become his Padawan._

“You saved me, Master. Don’t you remember? That is why we are stuck with Valentine… you used her leaves to make me tea, and you placed some of them on my brow and wrists.”

_Obi-Wan had burned like he was on fire, too far-gone in the Force for Qui-Gon to put him in a Healing trance. In the end, all that had been left for him and the girl was to stand vigil, in the cave where they had finally found shelter. And his boy had pulled through, like the steady, small wonder he was._

_It was all thanks to Feemor. Thanks to the boy’s wonderful passion for plants and healing – he would have made such a wonderful Knight, such a wonderful Healer… Feemor had saved his robin, not him, but his robin was in danger again, someone had shot their ship and they were careening towards the ground – but he was tired, so tired, unable to pull his lightsaber and to burn a hole in the ship, so that they could jump…_

Unconsciousness claimed Qui-Gon once more, and he fell, through his mind and through the Force, into deep darkness. 

He tried, afterwards. Tried to swim back towards that presence that was holding him, that seemed to be an anchor for him, steadfast, quiet, and soothing. For a long, long time, it was a lost battle, the heavy sea pulling him back under.

Until, finally, the Force seemed to clear like a misty mountainside, Qui-Gon finally able to follow that unwavering ray bringing him towards the sun again. He latched on that presence, steadily, patiently – until, at last, Qui-Gon was able to breach the sea, and to open his eyes, coming back in the moment.

The world was dark around them, but he could make out shapes – clean sheets, the blue gleam of a tiny screen where lines kept wavering, and a straight, slender silhouette, seated cross-legged beneath him.

Obi-Wan.

“Padawan…”, Qui-Gon whispered, and he was shocked to realise his voice was nothing more than a weak croak.

His Padawan moved, hand resting gently on his shoulder, bestowing warmth and reassurance in the Force, but Qui-Gon could feel something else along their bond, quiet despair and overwhelming exhaustion. And pain.

“I’m here, Master”, Obi-Wan answered, but it seemed automatic, like a mantra, words repeated so often they almost seemed to fade.

“Obi-Wan… Padawan… What happened – where…”

A shudder went through their bond and his Padawan bent towards him, hand curling around his shoulder.

“Master? Are you… are you awake? Can you hear me?”

There was a tremble in his boy’s voice, and Qui-Gon tried to convey his awareness by reaching out for his hand, squeezing his Padawan’s cold fingers, reaching out for him through their bond.

Obi-Wan drew a sharp intake of breath, and then his hand moved, bringing Qui-Gon’s hand to his lips, cradling his arm against his chest.

_Master... Thank the Force. Thank the Force._

“Obi-Wan…

\- You must be thirsty, Master. Don’t speak, please, let me…

\- Obi-Wan. Padawan. Help me sit up.”

His Padawan obeyed instantly, drawing an arm around his back, helping him recover – and Qui-Gon was soon facing him, studying his pale face, the bruise on his temple and the impressive staple-lined scar on his skull.

“Mother of Moons, Obi-Wan, what happened to you?”

_Language, Master._

His Padawan had projected automatically, the same exhaustion than earlier flooding his words – it stifled Qui-Gon’s chuckle, who simply extended his arm towards Obi-Wan.

“Padawan, come here.”

He soon had his arms around the boy, cradling him against him like a child, hand buried in the soft strands of auburn hair, feeling Obi-Wan tremble against him, arms trapped between their chests.

He was not feeling at his best himself, he soon realized, but Qui-Gon could feel the Force around him, finally, and reached out to release his discomfort and the residual toxins still swirling in his blood back into its stream.

“You were unconscious, Master. You wouldn’t wake.”

Obi-Wan’s voice was a mere whisper, but Qui-Gon could sense just how upset his Padawan was in the Force, still unable to still his shivers.

“I… I just remember being trapped, Padawan. I am afraid it was Rose Cimber, but I do not recall…

\- I know. We caught her. But you wouldn’t wake.”

The boy was _exhausted_. Obi-Wan was much more articulate usually, and his presence in the Force so much brighter. Qui-Gon sent a wave of reassurance and _I’m there_ through their bond, carding his hand through his Padawan’s hair, who buried his face even deeper in his shoulder, breaths leaving his lips with quiet, heart-breaking sobs.

“Shh… Padawan. I’m here. I’m here.”

He wrapped his arms even tighter around the boy, and quietly rested his chin on Obi-Wan’s head, holding him through the storm finally breaking through his Padawan’s usually so carefully woven shields.

“I’m… sorry”, Obi-Wan hiccupped, “I… didn’t…

\- Shh. Padawan. Shh. None of that.”

Obi-Wan’s body was warm and almost boneless against his when his sobs finally spaced, and much too soon, Qui-Gon felt him reach for his face, wiping his tears away, pulling away from him, head bowed in quiet shame.

“Master, I’m sorry. I never meant to… lose control like that. Please, let me… let me just bring you water or – whatever you need, I…

\- Obi-Wan. Padawan. Look at me, please.”

A pale, crumpled face met his and Qui-Gon let a wave of affection and concern wash over him, wrapping itself around that incredibly stubborn boy of his.

“Water would be most welcome, indeed. And perhaps something to eat, but only if it doesn’t require you to leave my side. Because, my Padawan, what I _need_ is to know what happened to you, and what the situation is here, so as to leave that unfriendly rock of a planet as soon as possible.”

 _That_ made Obi-Wan smile and wipe his cheeks once more with a more decided move, nodding earnestly.

“Yes. Of course, Master. Water.”

There was a new swing to his Padawan’s moves as he rose, quickly fetching a tray, bringing him food and water. Only then did Qui-Gon realise that he was seated on a mattress and that an infusion line was set on the back of his left hand – Obi-Wan was quick to free him of it, though, placing the almost empty-bag on the ground beneath them.

“Where are we, Padawan?

\- In one of the rooms of the Palace’s medical ward”, Obi-Wan answered – and Qui-Gon looked around him, surprised to find the room so sparsely furnished and empty.

“They relocated the Palace’s population to safely guarded rooms. The medical ward is almost empty. Just droids and some supplies. I… told the medics I would take care of you.”

There was quiet resolve in Obi-Wan’s voice that made Qui-Gon look up, lowering his spoon – Force, it felt so good to eat, knowing his Padawan was nearby, safe and almost sound.

“Padawan, you make it sound like there is a war going on.

\- Because there _is_ , Master”, Obi-Wan answered, tiredly. “The Rebels have attacked the palace, twice, and they succeeded in raiding supplies and weakening some of the outposts.”

Qui-Gon frowned at this.

“Just… how long was I out, Obi-Wan?”, he asked, softly, and his Padawan raised exhausted grey eyes up at him.

“Three days since we found you, Master.”

_Oh. What the blazes did that Cimber woman put into my bloodstream?_

“Not just her, Master.”

Obi-Wan’s face was grave, and since Qui-Gon had finished his meal, the boy gently reached for his right wrist, inspecting the pristine bandages, placing his palm against the injury and assessing it through the Force. His Padawan seemed satisfied, and Qui-Gon realised, then, that he had probably owed him his cleanliness and comfort for days now.

“I didn’t understand it, at first, Master. I was so terribly _slow_ ”, Obi-Wan told him, features sharpening in the moonlit room.

“I thought you were weakened by Rose Cimber’s drugs. I made the medics here take a sample of your blood and test it for the most common poisons. They told me you just had to rest, that the toxins would be purged from your body on their own. But you were not waking.”

His Padawan straightened, leaning against the wall, and then, he told him all – about the crash, his meeting with the Rebel leaders, the situation in the Palace and Princess Fanry’s uncompromising position, his visit to Czerka Corporation with Rael Averross, the plan he designed along with Quinlan Vos to locate him and their fight against Rose Cimber.

“She made no mystery about Czerka hiring her – but Chairman Cutlace keeps denying it. And… Master, that man lets out more falsehoods than breaths but – I think _this_ , at least, is true. Because – why would they let her be so obvious about them? Holding a Jedi Master prisoner, especially one who was specifically sent on Pijal to negotiate… that’s the best way to cast Czerka Corporation in a nefarious light, and that’s the last thing they want.”

The more animated his Padawan got, the more refined his words became – it was frankly endearing, and Qui-Gon was unable to repress a smile.

“And… you were unconscious for more than a day and still not getting better – so I thought… I thought, who had most to gain from incapacitating us? Who was mostly against a compromise, but still determined to be seen as a victim? And I realized that, though Czerka Corporation thoroughly deserve to be investigated _properly_ , it could not be them. This left the Rebels, but Master – I have seen them, I have seen what their resources are, and I do not think they have cruisers such as the one Rose Cimber used against us. Nor drugs, they do not even have Bacta patches…”

Sadness and compassion softened Obi-Wan’s gaze, and his Padawan went on:

“So I thought… what if it had all been a sham, from the very beginning? Painting Czerka as villains, such gaining the Jedi’s sympathy, forcing us to advocate a removal of the factories… And incapacitating you – the main threat – in order to crush the rebellion without negotiations, without compromise…”

Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows, bringing up a hand, and stroking his beard pensively – he was frankly quite in awe with the boy’s reasoning.

“You mean…

\- Yes, Master”, Obi-Wan whispered. “I think the one pulling the strings here, from the very beginning, is in the Palace. And I have already begun to gather some evidence and set a trap for them.

\- Force, Padawan…”, Qui-Gon let out, reaching out for Obi-Wan’s knee and squeezing it. “No wonder you look like a ghost, little one.”

Obi-Wan smiled faintly at him, and Qui-Gon squeezed his knee once more, becoming earnest once more.

“Do you think Rael Averross is involved? What kind of evidence, and what kind of trap, Obi-Wan?”

His Padawan’s shoulders slumped, slowly.

“I… I don’t know. I hope not”, Obi-Wan whispered. “I don’t… I don’t think so, but I’m not sure I’m the best judge when it comes to deceit, Master. He has been very lonely, and I think he is very sad – I think it hurts him to see Princess Fanry so… hard and bitter.”

Well. Rael Averross had certainly managed to find a way to his Padawan’s heart – not that this was particularly difficult to achieve, Obi-Wan tending to be loving and compassionate towards almost _everyone_ and everything, old teacups included.

“But I… am sure someone holding power here wanted you unconscious and drugged. You see, Master, when you were not waking and I realised something was wrong, I… I changed your infusion bag, the one the medical droids were giving you. I… sneaked into their supply room and gathered another one. And I kept the one they put you on, took some samples, and sent them to the Halls in the Temple. Master Che was quite adamant in her report.”

Obi-Wan handed him a small data-pad, and Qui-Gon scanned quickly through the medical file, that was indeed reporting no small amount of Mazolamid.

“I flushed it out, Master. I kept changing the bags, as soon as they replaced it for you. And I had each one of it tested – none of it was clear, Master.”

Resolve and quiet passion, in his Padawan’s grey eyes – but he had kept his head clear, he had not given into panic, and what was more, he had kept his discoveries to himself.

“Well done, Obi-Wan”, he praised, warmly, and the boy, Force bless him, bowed his head and _blushed_.

“I locked your room through the Force, whenever I was getting out. No one came near you when I was not there, but the only ones entering here were the medics, the droids and Master Averross. I think, however, that whoever is behind all this will try to set Rose Cimber free. And I think it will be tonight. Because the Rebels are beginning to circle the city, because they cannot have you unconscious forever, and because it is the perfect timing to expose Czerka even more without enabling you to question Rose Cimber.

\- Did _you_ question her, Obi-Wan?”, Qui-Gon asked, feeling dread invade him at the thought of his apprentice alone in the cell of such a toxic woman.

Obi-Wan shook his head.

“No, Master. I… I didn’t dare. I didn’t want to raise any suspicions. And… I was worried for you.”

Obi-Wan raised a fist, rubbing his cheek unconsciously, much like he used to, as a boy, whenever he was fighting sleep, and Qui-Gon realised, for the first time, that he kept his left arm at a somewhat awkward angle.

“Padawan, come here. Let me have a look at that arm.”

His voice was stern, and Obi-Wan had never disobeyed one of his orders. He soon had the boy facing him, and felt for his elbow and wrist, sensing hot pulses of pain radiating from the injured limb.

“Obi-Wan, this is broken. Perhaps even _dislocated_ – did you let someone have a look at it?”

His Padawan shook his head, looking every bit the child he still was, sometimes, despite his level-headedness.

“Did you even _try_ to heal yourself?”

His Padawan did not respond, biting his lip, so Qui-Gon quietly probed their bond, waiting for the boy to open up.

_Too difficult. Too tired. I didn’t… manage, Master._

“Because you spent all your strength watching over me”, Qui-Gon said, very quietly. “My Padawan… Your well-being matters. As much as mine. More, even, because you are my responsibility. Not the other way round.”

That made his Padawan flare up, grey eyes bright with suppressed distress.

“Master, you were unconscious! What was I supposed to do – I couldn’t leave you like this! There was no one here – no one else, and you were just so… You sounded so _sad_ , Master…

\- Shh, little one, do not fret. Do not get upset. I’m here now, and anything but sad. Let’s heal that arm, shall we? And then I think meditation is in order, for both of us…”

It was Krayt spit, of course. His Padawan was in no state to do anything but sleep. Preferably for a week, if his upset state was any indication. As it was, however, Qui-Gon made sure to understand his Padawan’s plan clearly, and memorize where exactly he was supposed to look for the footage in Rose Cimber’s cell, a hidden cam there recording everything going on in the area.

And then he wrapped his arm around his Padawan’s bony shoulders, and leant the boy against his chest, carefully cradling the broken limb between his hands. Obi-Wan had closed his eyes, obediently, breath slowing down and worried lines smoothing out as he found the Force once more.

And Qui-Gon joined him there, pushing calm waves of reassurance and quiet towards Obi-Wan, until their bond opened, allowing him to brush against the ruffled, distressed, exhausted but so _loving_ presence of his Padawan.

_Sleep, dear one. Rest._

His suggestion was powerful, and Obi-Wan completely spent. Qui-Gon barely felt a ripple of mild surprise through their bond, then his boy was slumping in his arms, auburn head meeting the crook of his neck.

He allowed himself to cradle the boy against him, and to press a quiet kiss on his spiky hair – and then he let the Force flow through him, powerful and beaming with fierce protectiveness for the treasure he was holding. He gently pushed the bones back into place, sending healing waves towards Obi-Wan’s elbow, then he focused his energy on the boy’s wrist, feeling the swelling reduce as the pain finally receded.

He checked his Padawan’s body, through the Force, and shook his head, hand moving towards Obi-Wan’s chest, smoothing out the cracked lines he felt along his lower ribs, and then he rested a hand against the boy’s head, fingers carding through his hair, holding him as he slept.

Rael Averross found them like this, sliding quietly into the room, and Qui-Gon watched his brother-in-lineage approach, hand silently moving to the lightsaber he had clipped once more on his belt.

Rael threw him a dazzling smile and simply sat down, with one of those graceful moves that used to put Qui-Gon to shame – but not anymore.

“Won’t you say hello, Qui?

\- Won’t you?”, Qui-Gon threw back, shifting his arms around Obi-Wan so that his Padawan’s face was resting more comfortably against his shoulder.

And he watched Rael’s eyes soften, his brother-in-lineage moving to a nearby cupboard, withdrawing a blanket he tossed on Qui-Gon’s legs.

“There. Keep the little tomcat warm.”

Qui-Gon unfolded the blanket, wordlessly, and gently slid Obi-Wan’s body until his Padawan was lying down, head resting on his thigh, wrapping the blanket around him.

“He’s wiped out.”

Rael’s concern sounded genuine, and there was no darkness to be found in his signature – although something within him seemed changed. Almost broken –selfishness turned to loneliness.

“Is he always like that, Qui?

\- Like _what_ , Rael?”, Qui-Gon sighed, feeling a slight shudder go through Obi-Wan and rubbing his back soothingly.

“Focused and sharp, all stern and smart and stubborn as kriff… You should have seen him fight that Jaw Plant of a woman – _true Soresu_ , Qui… I bet old Dooku is _besotted_ with him.

\- I told you before, Rael. There is no way Dooku is coming near Obi-Wan.”

Qui-Gon’s voice had turned sharp, and Rael hunched slightly on himself.

“So you two still…

\- Yes. And I don’t mean to change it, so don’t try to meddle.

\- I won’t. Besides… He never talks to me, either. Ever since I came here, it’s as if – as if I vanished from the Temple’s universe. Not that I mind – I certainly do not miss the smell in the training rooms, nor the cantina’s food.”

Now that was a lie just as big as Corellia, but Qui-Gon was not heartless enough to point it out, and as such, he just carded his hand through Obi-Wan’s hair, gently tucking his Padawan-braid behind his ear.

“He looks so kriffing small. They all do, when they are asleep, don’t they? And yet as soon as they are awake, they do everything to prove us they are no children anymore…”

Qui-Gon just hummed.

“He looks a lot like Fanry. It puzzled us all here, when he arrived. But he’s nothing like her. He’s good, selfless… and he loves you more than anything.

\- I know”, Qui-Gon whispered. “So do I.

\- What about attachment, Qui? Remember the way Dooku always lectured us about it…?

\- Yes. And I think everything about it, _everything_ , Rael, is absolute Bantha fodder. You cannot raise a Padawan for years, go through hell and back with them multiple times, and _not_ feel something more than a training bond, unless something is missing inside. What is wrong, though, is to try and bind their wings. Preventing them from unfolding themselves.

\- What if – what if that flower turns out to be venomous?”

Rael’s voice was quiet, sad – and Qui-Gon looked up, frowning slightly.

“Rael, if there is something you want to share, please go ahead. I’m afraid metaphors are not really my forte.”

His brother-in-lineage just shook his head, deflective, playful smile back in place.

“Just musings in the dark, Qui-Gon. I’ll leave you to your rest. I think we might have quite a situation tomorrow, if the Rebels do not disappoint. Perhaps, though, it’s for the best…”

Something beeped, on Obi-Wan’s wrist, and Qui-Gon stilled, suddenly on high alert – because this meant someone was nearing Rose Cimber’s cell. Someone that could not, obviously, be Rael Averross.

Such was the alarm and awareness invading him that some of it probably permeated their bond, because Obi-Wan stirred, sitting up, rubbing bleary eyes, clearly trying to focus.

“Kriff, it woke him up…”, Rael hissed, but Qui-Gon placed a finger on his lips, trying to activate the sound on Obi’s commlink.

His Padawan lifted a hand, pushed down a few buttons, and leant back against Qui-Gon’s chest, fighting back sleepiness.

“Master, we need to move”, he sighed, and Qui-Gon hesitated, for a while, playing with the thought of leaving his Padawan there, where he could rest… but such was not the Jedi way and Obi-Wan deserved better.

So he simply placed a hand on his Padawan’s brow, using the Force to clear his mind of sleep, and pulled Obi-Wan to his feet, facing an open-mouthed Rael Averross.

“What…

\- Quick, Rael. With us. She’s trying to escape.”

And within seconds, they were racing towards Rose Cimber’s cell.

*

One moment Obi-Wan’s head was heavy like a rock sinking under water, the other he was running behind his Master, trying to reconcile the fact that he was no longer hurting, that Qui-Gon was upright and strong as ever, long hair flowing beneath him as he rushed towards the Palace’s cells.

He skidded to a halt a hand’s breath from Qui-Gon, sensing his Master’s palm on his neck, feeling the last remnants of sleep vanish from his body.

Master Averross stilled beneath them, and Obi-Wan heard his silent intake of breath, feeling _pain_ shatter all around the elder Jedi Master.

“You have done your part. Now let me do mine”, a voice belonging to a slender silhouette was saying, hand hovering across the cell’s electronic lock.

“Most obliged, Princess”, Rose Cimber’s voice answered, the assassin sliding out of her cell, stretching her arms with a languid, somewhat graceful move.

“ _Fanry…_ ”

Master Averross’ anguished whisper echoed through the rooms, taking them all by surprise, and then everything went havoc. Rose Cimber moved like a cat, trapping Princess Fanry in a headlock, arm wrapped around her throat, blaster pressed against her temple.

“Move, Master Jedi, and the small amount of your little puppet’s brains will _litter_ the ground”, Rose snarled, lips turning up in a cruel smile.

“Let me _go_!”, Fanry hissed, squirming against her, but she was quick to still when Rose armed the trigger. “We had an _agreement_.”

She sounded so _childish_. So… utterly spoiled.

“Fanry, what have you done…?”, Master Averross whispered, hands raised in the air, stock still in the prison’s darkness. “Please don’t hurt her. Please take me instead. She’s just… she’s just a child.

\- I am NOT!”, Princess Fanry screamed. “I’m not a child, it’s YOU who always make me appear like I am! You just cannot stand to stop being the one in charge, you don’t care for Pijal, you just care for your profits and power and credits!

\- Oh. My. _Goodness_ , how precious”, Rose Cimber drawled. “What a wonderful little _goose_ you have raised, Jedi, you should be proud…

\- Let her go. Please. I will give you whatever you want. Whatever you need. Just… don’t hurt her.”

_We need to stop him._

Qui-Gon’s voice was worried but firm in Obi-Wan’s head.

_I will block the trigger. You stay ready to catch the Princess._

“I don’t want your help, just let me go, you _bitch_!”, Fanry shrieked, and Rose gave an exasperated eyeroll, finger moving towards the trigger.

“NO!”

It all went so fast. Qui-Gon blocked the trigger, pulling the Princess towards Obi-Wan, who was quick to catch and immobilize her as she started to writhe. There was the sound of a lightsaber, and suddenly Rose Cimber was on the ground. Body crumpled like a puppet with broken strings, eyes dull, expression still faintly amused.

And Master Averross was just standing there, blade still drawn, looking almost as dead as she was.

“I hate you! You’re a monster! I hate you, I hate you!!!”

The Princess was thrashing in Obi-Wan’s arms, screeching and trembling like she was possessed, tears streaming down her face.

“Rael.”

Qui-Gon’s voice was quiet. Unusually soft.

“Rael. Put down the blade. Put it down.

\- I HATE YOU!”

A sweep of Qui-Gon’s hand, and Fanry went boneless, slumping into Obi-Wan’s arms, who was suddenly feeling very cold, dread invading every fibre of his being.

“Rael. Put the blade down.”

Master Averross’ grip on his lightsaber slid, slightly, and the Jedi shook his head, oblivious of the tears running quietly down his cheeks.

“I don’t think so, Qui.

\- Don’t do it, Master Averross. Don’t do this, please.”

Obi-Wan’s voice was broken. Hoarse. He let go of Princess Fanry, letting her slide on the ground, sick with disgust and fear.

“We are all part of the Force. We are all one. Don’t do this. _Please_. You still have to… you still have to teach me how to sass and how to… how to become better at Force-healing. And you need… you need to meet Quin and Nara and Kit and tell them how we found Master Qui-Gon, and…

\- Oh, _kid_ …”

Master Averross’ voice shattered, hand faltering slightly, and Qui-Gon used that slip to Force-project the lightsaber away from his hand. It fell to the ground, extinguishing himself, and Rael fell to his knees, sobbing, body lilting towards the ground. Meeting Qui-Gon’s chest.

_I just want to be gone._

Master Qui-Gon just wrapped his arms around his brother-in-lineage, holding him against him, making small, soothing sounds, while Obi-Wan just stood, wide-eyed and pale, as the Force around them _wept_.

They moved Rose Cimber’s body to one of the medical rooms and entrusted Princess Fanry to a very shaken Captain Deren, placing her under her own Blackguards’ custody.

Later in the night, as Princess Fanry regained consciousness, it was not long before Qui-Gon drew a full confession from her, especially when placed before the evidence gathered in the Palace’s prison.

Fanry had indeed been the one hiring Rose Cimber, trusting her to be as opposed to Czerka as she was, as soon as it became clear that the Republic’s views on the Pijali situation was not necessarily in her favour. The Princess fully acknowledged her refuse to make an Assembly of Pijal but was still denying having left the slaves on the _Leverage_ to their deaths. Qui-Gon however sensed deceit there, and just left her, shaking his head in disgust.

Obi-Wan himself had wasted no time in contacting Cady and Jamal, who had informed him that fifteen of the slaves had indeed survived the Princess’ attack and were safely guarded in the Rebel’s strong place.

“ _We’re ready for Czerka, kid_ ”, Cady’s fiery voice rang through the commlink.

Negotiations were due to take place into the Palace rooms, with Qui-Gon ensuring Lady Lamia’s security as new head of the Pijali government, and Obi-Wan safe-guarding the Rebels’. Chairman Cutlace and Czerka however were absent, their presence only considered fuel to the fire.

And so, three Jedi, two women and their respective guards were facing each other in one of the Palace rooms – Cady in tunic and leggings, dark tresses carefully woven above chocolate skin, and Lady Lamia in a black mourning dress, quiet and sad, but composed.

Obi-Wan was seated next to Rael Averross, who had yet to say a word, eyes dull and face pale, but Force-signature a tad steadier. Qui-Gon still retained Rael’s lightsaber – he had tried to stabilise his brother-in-lineage in the Force, though, putting him in a calming trance that had helped to soothe him.

Obi-Wan felt Rael flinch next to him, once Qui-Gon exposed Fanry’s behaviour, and took the elder Jedi Master’s hand in his, gently, as Lady Lamia quietly read the document where Fanry had signed her abdication.

The fingers meeting his were calloused and cold. But after a while, timidly, they squeezed back.

“It has become obvious that we cannot continue as it is”, Lady Lamia said, very calmly. “Pijal calls for much needed reforms, and I – _we_ – do not want a society where inequalities only grow. However, what also seems very clear is that violence and chaos are no effective tools.

\- And what do you propose, my lady?”, Cady asked, proudly. “That Czerka stays, on our lands, continuing to employ slaves because doing otherwise would threaten Pijal’s stability?

\- I think we should try to place Pijal under the protection of a larger, stronger structure. I think Pijal should join the Senate. But not as a monarchy. Those days are gone, lady Cady. I propose my first move as Queen of Pijal to be one of _abdication_ , leading to the creation of a Pijali Assembly. That Assembly, in turn, would be led by a Governor, and send two Senators to Coruscant, to defend Pijal’s interest and make sure slavery is abolished and punished on our grounds.”

Silence fell, for a minute, and Obi-Wan watched Cady turn towards Jamal, whispering quietly.

“Who would those Senators be, my lady?

\- They would have to be elected, lady Cady. However, as far as spontaneous candidatures go, I would suggest someone among your ranks. I, for my part, am most willing to act as a representative of the former Palace’s side. The Sky knows I have long wanted to change _some things_ here.”

Cady nodded, quietly, dark eyes softening slightly.

“I know, my lady. And I think… Pijal can trust you to defend its interest best. My faction wants to make a formal complaint against Czerka Corporation in front of the Senate. We have fifteen testimonies of former slaves, and I think they would be better protected on Coruscant than on our planet. It would be an honour to lead them there, and to help you establish Pijal as a democratic Assembly in the Senate.”

Czerka would not vanish within months, not even years from Pijali grounds. But with the planet as part of the Republic, their shadier activities would withdraw further, once more… until another scandal was unclosed.

“We’re going to fly”, Kira chirped, two days afterwards, as the Jedi were finally able to leave, heading back to Coruscant.

The little girl had resumed talking, shortly after the negotiations, and Obi-Wan suspected it was a mixture of seeing Princess Fanry gone, witnessing her mother speaking for the Palace, and knowing she would be leaving the planet.

Kira was however very reluctant to leave Obi-Wan’s side, who had resigned himself to have a tiny shadow following each one of his steps, frequently hoisting Kira on his hip so as to be able to move faster.

“Yes, Kira, we are going to fly”, he answered, smiling at the little girl who was playing with his braid, tickling her nose with its tail.

“Is Obi afraid?”, the girl asked, with the odd perceptivity of small children, and Obi-Wan sighed slightly, looking at the huge Pijali cruiser.

“A bit”, he said, softly. “I don’t think I’ll ever feel the same about flying, but fear is not a good councillor, Kira.

\- Very well spoken, my Padawan”, Qui-Gon chimed in, ruffling Obi-Wan’s hair. “Let’s go home, little one. All three of us.”

Obi-Wan turned, casting one last look on the Palace, the huge trees, and Pijal tangerine’s skies. The Force was strong here, and had made him quite uneasy many times, but for now the storms seemed withered, and so the Padawan bowed, quietly – to the trees, the Watchtowers, the skies and the Pijali people.

Indeed, he was eager to return home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my dears... First of all, I want to assure you all that poor Rael Averross is currently getting the biggest hug ever in the world of writing. I am very curious to know if you guessed what was going on, I'm afraid I'm not the best in not disclosing things -- I am even sure some among you probably think that *Rael* being the villain would have been an even better writing move, but... I couldn't. That Jedi just found his way into my heart, ever since I realised he was also Dooku's former Padawan, and what's more Rael does not turn in the real sources, which was why I didn't want him to in my fics. 
> 
> Mazolamid is an anagram of Midazolam, a drug frequently used in hospitals to induce coma and as a tranquilizer.
> 
> Writing over-protective Qui-Gon has been *the* joy of the chapter, I hope it acted as a counter-balance for the angst - I am sorry if it unsettled you, but I really wanted to show just how hard isolation can be for a Jedi too-long away from other Force-sentients. Someone, however, needs to teach Obi to sass indeed, and I want you to know that the epilogue should definitely be brighter (not unicorn bright, but positive). If there are any loose ends left for you, please let me know. And if you want to cuddle Obi as badly as I do, well... join the club :). Take care and till very soon, for the final installment. Much love, Meysun.


End file.
